THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 

PAUL  TURNER,  U.S.M.C.R. 

KILLED  IN  ACTION,  SAIPAN 

JUNE,  1944 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/artistsofamericaOOIestiala 


sswscsKiii  smr,  :Fm®o 


Miibni  hv  ]outignHonf 


r 


NEW    YORK: 

PDBlilgHEU    BY    BAKER    &    SCRIBNER. 

,      1846. 


THE 


AKTISTS  OF  AMERICA: 


A  SERIES  OF 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES 

OF 

AMERICAN  ARTISTS; 

WITH 

PORTRAITS  AND  DESIGNS  ON  STEEL. 

BY 

C.  EDWARDS  LESTER. 


AUTHOR  OF  "the  ARTIST,  THE  MERCHANT,  AND  THE  STATESMAN,"  ETC. 

ETC. 


NEW-YORK: 

BAKER   &    SCRIBNER, 
1846. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1846,  by 

BAKER  &  SCRIBNER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


LEAVITT.  TROW  &  CO.,  PRINTERS, 

3  8    A.NN-8TKEET. 


• 


Art 
libraxy 

L56CL 


THIS 


OFFERING 

IS   MADE 


TO   ALL  THE 


fxxtniB 


AMERICAN  ARTISTS. 


r 


r.y 


PEEFACE. 

The  immediate  object  of  this  Series  of  Biographical  Sketches,  is 
to  make  Our  Artists  and  their  Works  better  known  at  home.  Abroad, 
this  is  not  necessary,  for  there  they  have  always  been  bettei*  known, 
and  better  appreciated  than  in  their  own  country.  The  names  of 
such  men  as  West,  Allston,  Durand,  and  Powers,  are  a  sufficient 
pledge  of  the  truth  of  this  statement. 

While  every  American  of  taste,  and  of  national  feeling,  is  proud  of 
Our  Artists,  he  blushes  when  this  fact  is  told.  It  does  not  reflect 
much  credit  upon  us,  it  seems  to  me,  to  have  it  said,  and  with  too 
much  truth  too,  that  no  American  Artist  can  get  bread  at  home  till 
he  has  won  fame  abroad. 

I  have  long  believed  that  the  insensibility  of  the  nation  to  the 
claims  of  Art  and  Artists  was  more  owing  to  a  lack  of  information 
on  these  subjects,  than  to  any,  perhaps  all  other  causes ;  and  I  have 
long  desired  to  see  this  want  supplied  with  some  work,  uniting  beauty 
of  execution  and  cheapness  of  price,  with  authenticity  of  facts,  to 
secure  for  it  general  circulation.  Artists  themselves  will  not  do  it, 
although  well  qualified  for  the  task ;  perhaps  they  could  not  do  it 
without  suflTering,  however  unjustly,  unkind  imputations.  No  one 
else  seems  inclined  to  make  an  attempt,  and  I  have  resolved  to  try  it 
myself. 

Confining  myself  strictly  to  the  object  of  this  work — already 
stated — I  shall  endeavor  only  to  make  our  Artists  and  their  Works 
better  known  to  their  own  countrymen.  No  alarm  need  be  felt  by 
them ;  for  I  shall  not  consider  it  my  business  to  deal  with  living  men 


yi  ,  PREFACE. 

without  their  consent,  however  current  the  old  adage  may  be  that 
public  men  are  public  property.  I  do  not  propose  to  compare  one 
artist  with  another,  nor  to  praise  any  body.  Praise  cannot  make 
Artists ;  otherwise  we  should  have  had  masters  by  the  score.  All 
an  Artist  or  Author  needs,  is  to  be  known  through  his  works.  If 
these  are  his  eulogium,  let  him  have  no  solicitude  about  his  fame. 

My  materials  come  from  the  most  authentic  sources,  princi- 
pally from  Artists  themselves.  I  have  drawn  freely  from  Dunlap, 
who  has  written  the  only  work  which  affords  me  any  aid.  With  a 
warm  love  of  art,  he  rendered  it  the  best  service  he  could. 

The  illustrations  are  executed  on  Steel  by  Mr.  Burt,  the  Artist 
who  engraved  the  Last  Suppeh,  just  published  by  A.  L.  Dick,  Esq. 

The  author  would  be  happy  to  receive  from  Artists  and  their 

friends  any  information  which  may  be  made   useful   while  these 

Sketches  are  in  progress. 

C.  Edwabds  Lesteb. 
New- York,  Feb.  5th,  1846 


*    • 


A[L[LSTr< 


FROM  HARDING'S    PMNTING 


WASHINGTON    ALLSTON. 


Creatok  of  the  beautiful,  which  lives  through  distant  years — 

Methought  1  saw  a  funeral  band,  following  thee  in  tears; 

'Twas  not  the  tread  of  mortals,  but  a  strange  ethereal  train. 

For  stars  shone  brightly  through  them,  while  sweeping  o'er  the  plain 

The  Dead  Man  of  Elisha,  pass'd  sadly  in  my  dream, 
And  the  Angel  of  St.  Peter  shone.  like  the  morning's  beam ; 
Elijah  from  the  Desert,  and  Uriel  from  the  Sun, 
Mourned  in  tearless  silence  the  great  departed  one. 

Rosalie's  radiant  form  was  there — her  tresses  flowing  wild  * 
Man's  glorious  Madonna — a  Mother  and  her  Child  ; 
Saul  and  the  Witch  of  Endor — and  then  a  Bloody  Hand 
Floated  before  Spalatro,  as  he  followed  in  the  band. 

Monaldi,  gazing  wildly,  moved  with  an  air  of  pride  ; 
Gil  Bias,  with  fair  Lucretia,  went  weeping  by  his  side; 
Catherine  and  Petruchio,  and  Anna  Page,  were  there  ; 
And  men,  the  noble  and  the  brave,  and  women  pure  and  fair. 

The  Angels  pass'd,  with  Jacob,  arrayed  in  Glory's  dies. 
Their  shining  wings  half  folded,  and  quivering  for  the  skies. 
The  prophet  Jeremiah,  as  he  stood  sublime  of  old ; 
And  the  Destruction  of  Jerusalem  to  aged  Baruch  told. 

Fair  Rebecca  from  the  well — whose  tears  were  streaming  fast. 
With  the  imperial  Miriam,  who  slowly  glided  past — 
And  darkly  strode  Belshazzar — for  now  his  Feast  was  done — 
With  terror  on  his  curling  lip  and  fear  upon  his  tongue. 

They  gathered  round  the  yawning  grave,  a  group  of  Shadows  wild, 
And  pour'd  their  tears  of  incense  o'er  Columbia's  gifted  child — 
The  night  wind  blew  a  solemn  dirge,  and  bright  stars  twinkled  dim— 
**He  rested  from  bis  labors,  and  bis  works  did  follow  him." 

Calxb  Lro5,  or  Ltonsdalk. 
New- York,  Feb.  10th,  1846. 


HMS. 


'4% 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 


Allston's  name  will  in  all  coming  time  quicken  the 
fancy,  and  stir  the  blood  of  the  American  Painter.  His 
triumphs  and  his  sorrows  are  over ;  he  rests  quietly  in 
his  tomb  among  the  shades  at  Mount  Auburn  ;  and  we 
should  feel,  however  reverently  we  approached  it,  that 
there  were  others  who  had  a  right  to  draw  nearer ;  for 
there  are  those  who  shared  his  confidence,  and  were 
welcome  at  his  quiet  and  cheerful  home, — who  have 
seen  his  beautiful  creations  grow  under  the  touches  of 
his  wondrous  pencil, — who  were  near  him  in  his  last 
days,  and  who  now  go  to  his  green  resting-place  to 
weep.  We  do  not  feel  worthy  of  being  Allston's 
biographer,  nor  should  we  attempt  even  this  brief  sketch 
did  we  not  feel  that  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  American 
artists  would  expect  to  find,  on  its  first  page,  the  name 
of  him  who  stands  unquestionably  at  the  head  of  our 
painters.  No  words  of  ours  can  do  him  honor,  but 
they  may  at  least  serve  as  an  earnest  expression  of  our 
veneration  for  the  Great  Poet- Painter.  We  shall  en- 
deavor to  convey  a  correct  idea  of  Allston's  history  and 
genius  as  an  artist,  for  it  is  principally,  and  indeed 
almost  exclusively,  in  this  aspect  that  we  are  to  deal 
with  the  names  that  will  be  brought  forward  in  these 
sketches. 


4  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

Washington  Allston  was  born  in  South  Carolina,  in 
1779.  His  physicians  recommended  his  removal  to  a 
northern  climate,  and  from  his  early  boyhood  he  seems 
to  have  made  his  home  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island, 
where  he  continued  his  studies  till  1796,  when  he  was 
entered  at  Harvard  University.  It  would  be  difficult 
not  to  believe  that  this  boy  amused  himself  with  brushes 
and  paints,  or  had  in  lack  of  such  objects,  some  quiet 
chit-chat  with  nature,  as  Ben  Jonson  quaintly  says.  In 
fact  we  have  a  scrap  of  authentic  history  about  it,  from 
the  pen  of  the  boy  himself— now  become  a  man — a 
Poet  and  a  Painter. 

"  To  go  back  as  far  as  I  can — I  remember  that  I  used 
to  draw  before  I  left  Carolina,  at  six  years  of  age  (by  the 
way  no  uncommon  thing),  and  still  earlier  that  my  fa- 
vorite amusement,  much  akin  to  it,  was  making  little 
landscapes  about  the  roots  of  an  old  tree  in  the  country — 
meagre  enough  no  doubt ;  the  only  particulars  of  which 
I  can  call  to  mind  were  a  cottage  built  of  sticks,  shaded 
by  little  trees  which  were  composed  of  small  suckers  (I 
think   so  called),  resembling  miniature  trees,  which  I 
gathered  in  the  woods.     Another  employment  was  the 
converting  the  forked  stalks  of  the  wild  fern  into  little 
men  and  women,  by  winding  about  them  different  col- 
ored yarn.     These  were  sometimes  presented  with  pitch- 
ers made  of  the  pomegranate  flower.     These  childish 
fancies  were  the  straws  by  which,  perhaps,  an  observer 
might  then  have  guessed  which  way  the  current  was 
setting  for  after  life — "  And  then  follow  a  few  lines  which 
would  guard  the  reader  from  drawing  too  exalted  an 
opinion  of  his  native  talent  or  propensity  for  Art — and 
Allston  had  no  false  modesty — that  worst  display  of  in- 
sincerity was  no  part  of  his  nature.     Dunlap  very  prop- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  5 

erly  says — "  In  these  delights  of  Allston's  childhood  ap- 
pear the  germs  of  landscape  gardening,  landscape  paint- 
ing, and  scenic  composition.  Less  intellectual  children 
are  content  to  make  mud  pies,  and  form  ovens  with  clay 
and  clam-sbells,  as  if  to  bake  them  in.  Even  when  at 
play  they  are  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  cakes,  pies  and 
puddings." — Allston  goes  on  with  his  sunny  sketch : 
"  But  even  these  delights  would  sometimes  give  way  to 
a  stronger  love  for  the  wild  and  the  marvellous.  I  de- 
lighted in  being  terrified  by  the  tales  of  witches  and  hags, 
which  the  negroes  used  to  tell  me ;  and  I  well  remem- 
ber with  how  much  pleasure  I  recalled  these  feelings 
on  my  return  to  Carolina — especially  on  revisiting  a  gi- 
gantic wild  grape-vine  in  the  woods,  which  had  been  a  fa- 
vorite swing  for  one  of  these  witches.  "  Here,"  remarks 
Dunlap,  "  may  be  perceived  the  germ  of  that  poetic  tal- 
ent which  afterward  opened  and  was  displayed  both  by 
the  pen  and  the  pencil  of  Mr.  Allston." 

The  Painter  now  gives  an  account  of  his  boyhood. 
"  My  chief  pleasure  now  was  in  drawing  from  prints — of 
all  kinds  of  figures,  landscapes  and  animals.  But  I  soon 
began  to  make  pictures  of  my  own — at  what  age,  how- 
ever, I  cannot  say.  The  earliest  compositions  that  I  re- 
member, were  the  Storming  of  Count  Roderick's  Castle, 
from  a  poor  (though  to  me  delightful)  romance  of  that 
day,  and  the  Siege  of  Toulon — the  first  in  India  ink — 
the  other  in  water  colors.  I  cannot  recall  the  year  in 
which  they  were  done.  To  these  succeeded  many 
others  which  have  likewise  passed  into  oblivion.  Though 
I  never  had  any  regular  instructor  in  the  art  (a  circum- 
stance, I  would  here  observe,  both  idle  and  absurd  to 
boast  ot),  I  had  much  incidental  instruction,  which  I  have 
always  through  life  been  glad  to  receive  from  every  one 


6  WASHINGTON    ALLSTON. 

in  advance  of  myself ;  and  I  may  add,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  self-taught  Artist,  in  the  ignorant  acceptation 
of  the  word ;  for  the  greatest  genius  that  ever  lived  must 
be  indebted  to  others  if  not  by  direct  teaching,  yet  indi- 
rectly through  their  works.  I  had  in  m}»  school  days 
some  of  this  latter  kind  of  instruction  from  a  very  wor- 
thy and  amiable  man,  a  Mr.  King,  of  Newport,  who 
made  quadrants  and  compasses,  and  occasionally  painted 
portraits.  I  believe  he  was  originally  bred  a  painter,  but 
obliged,  from  the  rare  calls  upon  his  pencil,  to  call  in  the 
aid  of  another  craft.  I  used  at  first  to  make  frequent 
excuses  for  visiting  his  shop  to  look  at  his  pictures,  but 
finding  that  he  always  received  me  kindly,  I  went  at  last 
without  any,  or  rather  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  making 
him  a  visit.  Sometimes  I  would  take  with  me  a  drawing, 
and  was  sure  to  get  a  word  of  encouragement.  It  was 
a  pleasant  thing  to  me,  some  twenty  years  after  this, 
to  remind  the  old  man  of  these  little  kindnesses." — Pleas- 
ant thing  too  must  it  have  been  to  the  old  painter,  to 
hear  such  acknowledgments  from  the  Artist  who  had 
brought  away  the  prize  from  the  British  Institution. 

Malbone's  success  in  Miniature  Painting  induced 
Allston,  now  in  his  freshman  year  at  College,  to  try  his 
hand  at  it.  He  tells  us,  "  I  could  make  no  hand  of  it — 
all  my  attempts  in  that  line  being  so  far  inferior  to  what 
I  could  then  do  in  oil,  that  I  became  disgusted  with  my 
abortive  efforts,  and  gave  it  up." — He  then  relates  an  an- 
ecdote which  illustrates  his  admirable  sincerity  and  sim- 
plicity of  character.  "  One  of  these  miniatures,"  he  con- 
tinues, "  or  rather  attempts  at  miniature,  was  shown  me 
several  years  after,  and  I  pronounced  it  without  premise, 
not  knowing  it  to  be  my  work.  I  may  add,  I  would  have 
said  the  same  had  I  known  it.     I  may  observe,  however 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 


(for  I  know  not  why  I  should  not  be  as  just  to  myself 
as  to  another  person),  that  I  should  not  have  expressed  a 
similar  opinion  respecting  its  contemporaries  in  oil :  for 
a  landscape  with  figures  on  horseback,  painted  about  this 
time,  was  afterwards  exhibited  at  Somerset  House." 

This  reminds  me  of  a  remark  of  Haydon,  the  best  his- 
torical painter  many  suppose  England  has  ever  had.  He 
was  speaking  of  an  English  Artist,  of  promising  genius 
in  landscape,  who  was  determined  to  paint  historical 
pieces,  and  vi'hose  earlier  attempts  rendered  it  nearly  cer- 
tain he  could  never  succeed.  "  That  man,  sir,"  said  Hay- 
don, in  his  impetuous  way  of  talking,  "  was  doing  ad- 
mirably in  landscapes — he  w^as  made  for  landscapes. 
He  has  lately  conceived  a  penchant  for  Historical  paint- 
ing, and  it  will  most  likely  prove  his  ruin.  Scores  of 
Artists  cut  their  throats  in  the  same  way.  There  are 
few  men  gifted  with  universal  genius.  It  is  enough  to 
satisfy  any  reasonable  being  to  climb  to  fame  on  one 
ladder,  without  trying  half  a  dozen.  When  a  boy  be- 
gins to  talk  about  being  an  Artist,  some  master  should 
shake  him  up  and  see  what  kind  of  art  he  can  shake  out 
of  him :  it  certainly  won't  take  long  to  find  out  whether 
it's  oil,  or  water  colors,  or  marble.  And  depend  upon 
it,  you  don't  often  get  a  Benvenuto  Cellini,  nor  a  Michael 
Angelo  into  the  bag.  These  chaps  who  can  do  every 
thing,  are  white  crows  among  Artists."  He  spoke  with 
great  admiration  of  Allston,  and  in  alluding  to  his  aban- 
doning miniature,  said — "  Next  to  knowing  what  one 
can  do,  the  best  acquisition  for  an  Artist  is  to  know  what 
he  canH.^^ 

He  tells  us  of  his  progress  in  Art  while  at  the  Uni- 
versity. "  My  leisure  hours  at  College  were  chiefly  de- 
voted to  the  pencil,  to  the  composition  equally  of  figures 


3  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

and  landscapes :  I  do  not  remember  that  I  preferred  one 
to  the  other ;  my  only  guide  in  the  choice  was  the  incli- 
nation of  the  moment.  There  was  an  old  landscape  at 
the  house  of  a  friend  in  Cambridge  (whether  Italian  or 
Spanish  I  know  not),  that  gave  me  my  first  hints  in  color 
in  that  branch ;  it  was  of  a  rich  and  deep  tone,  though 
not  by  the  hands  of  a  master ;  the  work  perhaps  of  a 
moderate  Artist,  but  of  one  who  lived  in  a  good  age, 
when  he  could  not  help  catching  something  of  the  good 
that  was  abroad.  In  the  coloring  of  figures,  the  pictures 
of  Pine  in  the  Columbian  Museum  in  Boston  were  my  first 
masters.  Pine  had  certainly,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect, 
considerable  merit  in  color.  But  I  had  a  higher  master 
in  the  head  of  Cardinal  Bentivoglio  from  Vandyke  in  the 
College  Library,  which  I  obtained  permission  to  copy 
one  winter  vacation.  This  copy  from  Vandyke  was  by 
Smybert,  an  English  Painter,  who  came  to  this  country 
with  Dean,  afterwards  Bishop  Berkley.  At  that  time  it 
seemed  to  me  perfection  ; — when  I  saw  the  original,  some 
years  afterwards,  I  found  I  had  to  alter  my  notions  of 
perfection.  However,  I  am  grateful  to  Smybert  for  the 
instruction  he  gave  me,  his  work  rather.  Deliver  me  from 
kicking  down  even  the  weakest  step  of  an  early  ladder." 
In  the  same  cheerful  way  he  opens  another  chapter 
of  his  Artistic  life.  He  says  to  a  friend,  "  On  quitting 
College  (in  1800),  I  returned  to  Charleston.  *  *  My 
picture  manufactory  still  went  on  in  Charleston  till  I  em- 
barked for  London.  Up  to  this  time  my  favorite  sub- 
jects, with  an  occasional  comic  intermission,  were  ban- 
ditti. I  well  remember  one  of  these,  where  1  thought  I 
had  happily  succeeded  in  cutting  a  throat !  The  subject 
of  this  precious  performance  was,  robbers  fighting  with 
each  other  for  the  spoils,  over  the  body  of  a  murdered  trav- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  9 

eller, — and  clever  ruffians  I  thought  them.  I  did  not  get 
rid  of  this  banditti  mania  until  I  had  been  over  a  year 
in  England.  It  seems  that  a  fondness  for  subjects  of  vio- 
lence is  common  with  young  Artists.  One  might  suppose 
that  the  youthful  mind  would  delight  in  scenes  of  an  op- 
posite character.  Perhaps  the  reason  of  the  contrary 
may  be  found  in  this ;  that  the  natural  condition  of 
youth  being  one  of  incessant  excitement  from  the  con- 
tinual influx  of  novelty — for  all  about  us  must  at  one 
time  be  new — it  must  needs  have  something  fierce,  terri- 
ble or  unusual,  to  force  it  above  its  wonted  tone.  But  the 
time  must  come  to  every  man  who  lives  beyond  the  mid- 
dle age, '  when  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.'  His 
novelties  then  are  the  rifacimenti  of  his  former  life. 
The  gentler  emotions  are  then  as  early  friends  who  re- 
visit him  in  dreams,  and  who,  recalling  the  past,  give  a' 
grace  and  beauty,  nay  a  rapture  even  to  what  in  the  hey- 
day of  youth  had  seemed  to  him  spiritless  and  flat.  And 
how  beautiful  is  this  law  of  nature — perfuming  as  it  were 
our  very  graves  with  the  unheeded  flowers  of  childhood. 
One  of  my  favorite  haunts  when  a  child  in  Carolina, 
was  a  forest  spring,  where  I  used  to  catch  minnous, 
and  1  dare  say  with  all  the  callousness  of  a  fisherman ; 
at  this  moment  I  can  see  that  spring;  and  the  pleasant 
conjuror,  memory,  has  brought  again  those  little  crea- 
tures before  me ;  but  how  unlike  to  what  they  were  ! 
They  seem  to  me  like  the  spirits  of  the  woods,  which  a 
flash  from  their  Uttle  diamond  eyes  lights  up  afresh  in 
all  their  gorgeous  garniture  of  vases  and  flowers.  But 
where  am  I  going  ?" 

So  always  was  it  with  this  gifted  man.  While  the 
painter  held  the  pencil  it  spoke  the  language  of  the  soul — 
when  he  took  up  the  pen  he  was  a  poet — and  poetry 


10  WASHINGTON   ALLSTON. 

and  painting  are  only  two  breathing  forms  of  the  same 
spirit. 

In  Charleston  he  painted  a  head  of  St.  Peter,  when 
he  hears  the  cock  crow,  and  one  of  Judas  Iscariot.  He 
was  now  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and  he  determined  in 
the  freshness  and  enthusiasm  of  youth  to  visit  the  shrines 
of  Art  in  the  old  world.  Dunlap  says,  "  Allston  sacri- 
ficed his  paternal  inheritance  to  his  love  of  the  Arts  to 
which  he  had  devoted  himself.  The  product  of  the  sale 
of  his  hereditary  property  was  appropriated  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  student  in  Europe,  and  the  furtherance  of  his 
enlightened  ambition !  He  had  generous  offers  from 
friends  in  Charleston,  who,  it  would  appear,  wished  to 
prevent  any  sacrifice  of  this  kind,  but  the  painter  pre- 
ferred independence  and  a  reliance  on  his  own  resources." 

Allston  has  illuminated  this  period  also  with  his  own 
pen — "  There  was  an  early  friend,  long  since  dead,  whom 
I  have  omitted  to  mention,  and  I  cannot  but  wonder  at 
the  omission,  since  he  is  one  whose  memory  is  still  most 
dear  to  me.  The  name  of  this  gentleman  was  Bow- 
man. *  *  I  believe  I  was  indebted  for  the  uncommon 
interest  he  was  pleased  to  take  in  me,  to  some  of  my 
college  verses,  and  to  a  head  of  St.  Peter  (when  he  hears 
the  cock  crow)  which  I  had  painted  about  that  time. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  his  partiality  was  not  of  an  every  day 
kind :  for  when  I  was  about  to  embark  for  Europe,  he 
proposed  to  allow  me,  nay,  almost  insisted  on  my  ac- 
cepting, a  hundred  pounds  a  year  during  my  stay  abroad. 
This  generous  offer,  however,  I  declined,  having  at  that 
time  a  small  income  sufficient  for  my  immediate  wants  ; 
it  would  have  been  sordid  to  have  accepted  it.  He  then 
proposed  to  ship  for  me  a  few  tierces  of  rice  :  that  too  I 
declined.     Yet  he  would  not  let  me  go  without  a  present, 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  J 1 

and  so  I  was  obliged  to  limit  it  to  Hume's  History  of 
England  and  a  Novel  by  Dr.  Moore,  whom  he  personally 
knew.  *  *  Such  an  instance  of  generosity  speaks  for 
itself.  But  the  kindness  of  manner  that  accompanied 
it  can  only  be  known  to  me  who  saw  it.  I  can  see  the 
very  expression  now.  Mr.  Bowman  was  an  excellent 
scholar,  and  one  of  the  most  agreeable  talkers  I  have 
known.  Malbone  Frazer  and  myself  were  frequent 
guests  at  his  table,  and  delightful  parties  we  always 
found  there.  With  youth,  health,  the  kindest  friends,  and 
ever  before  me  buoyant  hope,  what  a  life  to  look  back 
on  !  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  life  of  an  Artist,  whether 
painter  or  poet,  depends  much  on  a  happy  youth.  I  do 
not  mean  as  to  outward  circumstances,  but  as  to  his  in- 
ward being ;  in  my  own  case  at  least  I  feel  the  depend- 
ence ;  for  I  seldom  step  into  the  ideal  world  but  I  find 
myself  going  to  the  age  of  first  impressions.  The  germs 
of  our  best  thoughts  are  certainly  often  to  be  found 
there. — Sometimes,  indeed  (though  rarely),  we  find  them 
in  full  flower ;  and  when  so,  how  beautiful  seem  to  us 
these  flowers  through  an  atmosphere  of  thirty  years ! 
'Tis  in  this  way  that  poets  and  painters  keep  their  minds 
young.  How  else  could  the  old  man  make  the  page  or 
the  canvass  palpipate  with  the  hopes  and  fears  and  joys, 
the  impetuous,  impassioned  emotions  of  youthful  lovers 
or  reckless  heroes  ?  There  is  a  period  of  life  when 
the  ocean  of  time  seems  to  force  upon  the  mind  a  bar- 
rier against  itself,  forming  as  it  were  a  permanent  beach, 
on  which  the  advancing  years  successively  break,  only  to 
be  carried  back  by  a  returning  current  to  that  furthest  deep 
whence  they  first  flowed.  Upon  this  beach  the  poetry 
of  life  may  be  said  to  have  its  birth — where  the  real  ends 
and  the  ideal  begins." 


12  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

Soon  after  Allston's  arrival  in  London  he  became  a 
student  of  the  Royal  Academy.  The  Gladiator  was  his 
first  drawing  from  plaster,  and  it  gained  him  permission, 
says  Dunlap,  to  draw  at  Somerset  House — the  third 
procured  him  the  ticket  of  an  entered  student.  West  was 
then  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  and  he  gave  him  his  hand. 
Here  is  AUston's  tribute  to  that  great  Reformer  in  Eng- 
lish Art.  "Mr.  West  received  me  with  the  greatest 
kindness.  I  shall  not  forget  his  benevolent  smile  when 
he  took  me  by  the  hand  ;  it  is  still  fresh  in  my  memory, 
linked  with  the  last  of  like  kind  which  accompanied  the 
last  shake  of  the  hand,  when  I  took  a  final  leave  of  him 
in  1818.  His  gallery  was  open  to  me  at  all  times,  and 
his  advice  always  readily  and  kindly  given.  He  was  a 
man  overflowing  with  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  If 
he  had  enemies  I  doubt  if  he  owed  them  to  any  other 
cause  than  his  rare  virtue." 

"  I  arrived  in  London  about  the  middle  of  June  1 801 , 
near  the  close  of  the  annual  exhibition.  The  next  year 
was  the  first  of  my  adventuring  before  the  public,  when 
I  exhibited  three  pictures  at  Somerset  House.  The 
principal  one  a  French  Soldier  telling  a  story  (comic  at- 
tempt)— a  Rocky  Coast  (half  length)  with  banditti,  and 
a  Landscape  with  horsemen,  which  I  had  painted  at  Col- 
lege. I  received  two  applications  for  the  French  Soldier, 
which  I  sold  to  Mr.  Wilson,  of  the  European  Museum — 
for  whom  I  afterward  painted  a  companion  of  it,  also 
comic — the  Poet's  Ordinary,  where  the  lean  fare  was 
enriched  by  an  incidental  arrest." 

AUston  spent  three  years  in  England  and  then  went 
to  Paris  with  Vanderlyn.  The  Louvre  was  now  in  its 
full  splendor.  Napoleon  had  a  saying  that  every  victory 
gave  him  a  master ;  every  city  that  fell  before  his  tri- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  |«J 

umphant  legions,  surrendered  up  its  works  of  Art,  and 
when  the  two  young  painters  reached  Paris,  the  chef 
d^ouvres  of  the  Masters  and  the  Schools  of  Europe  were 
clustered  in  the  Louvre — forming  a  Gallery  which  will 
probably  never  be  seen  again.  But  the  Battle  of  Water- 
loo gave  back  to  nations  their  stolen  treasures. 

In  writing  from  the  Louvre,  Allston  says  : — "  Titian, 
Tintoretto,  and  Paul  Veronese,  absolutely  enchanted  me, 
for  they  took  away  all  sense  of  subject.  When  I  stood 
before  the  Peter  Martyr,  the  Miracle  of  the  Slave,  and 
the  Marriage  of  Cana,  I  thought  of  nothing  but  of  the 
gorgeous  concert  of  colors — or  rather  of  the  indefinite 
forms  (I  cannot  call  them  sensations)  of  pleasure  with 
which  they  filled  the  imagination.  It  was  the  poetry  of 
color  which  I  felt ;  procreative  in  its  nature,  giving  birth 
to  a  thousand  things  which  the  eye  cannot  see,  and  distinct 
from  their  cause.  I  did  not,  however,  stop  to  analyze  my 
feelings — perhaps  at  that  time  I  could  not  have  done  so. 
I  was  content  with  my  pleasure  without  seeking  the  cause. 
*  *  I  am  by  nature,  as  it  respects  the  Arts,  a  wide  liker. 
I  cannot  honestly  turn  up  my  nose  even  at  a  piece  of 
still  life,  since,  if  well  done,  it  gives  me  pleasure.  This 
remark  will  account  for  otherwise  strange  transitions.  I 
will  mention  here  a  picture  of  a  totally  different  kind 
which  then  took  great  hold  of  me,  by  Ludovico  Carracci. 
I  do  not  remember  the  title,  but  the  subject  was  the  Body 
of  the  Virgin  borne  for  interment  by  four  Apostles. 
The  figures  are  colossal — the  tone  dark  and  of  tremen- 
dous depth  of  color.  It  seemed  while  I  looked  at  it,  as  if 
the  ground  shook  under  their  tread,  and  the  air  were 
darkened  by  their  grief.  *  *  J  may  here  notice  a  false 
notion  which  is  current  among  artists,  in  the  interpre- 
tation they  put  on  the  axiom,  that  *  something  should 


u 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 


always  be  left  to  the  imagination,  viz. :  that  some  parts 
of  a  picture  should  be  left  unfinished.'^  The  very  state- 
ment betrays  its  unsoundness  ;  for  that  which  is  unfin- 
ished must  necessarily  be  imperfect,  so  that  according  to 
this  rule,  imperfection  is  made  essential  to  perfection. 
The  error  lies  in  the  phrase  'left  to  the  imagination;'  it 
has  filled  modern  Art  with  random  flourishes  of  no 
meaning.  If  the  axiom  be  intended  to  prevent  the  im- 
pertinent obtrusion  of  subordinate  objects,  (the  fault  cer- 
tainly of  a  mean  practice),  I  may  observe  that  the  rem- 
edy is  no  remedy,  but  rather  a  less  fault  substituted  for 
a  greater.  Works  of  a  high  order  aspiring  to  the  poet- 
ical, cannot  make  good  their  pretensions,  unless  they  do 
affect  the  imagination,  and  this  should  be  the  test — that 
they  set  to  work,  not  to  finish  what  is  less  incomplete,  but 
to  awaken  images  congenial  to  the  compositions,  but  not 
in  them  expressed — an  eJETect  that  never  was  yet  real- 
ized by  misrepresenting  any  thing.  If  the  objects  intro- 
duced into  a  picture  keep  their  several  places,  as  well  in 
the  deepest  shadow  as  in  light,  the  general  effect  will 
suffer  nothing  by  their  truth  :  but  to  give  the  whole  truth 
in  the  midnight  as  well  as  the  daylight,  belongs  to  a 
master."  Few  passages  were  ever  uttered  which  contain 
so  profound  a  criticism  or  furnish  so  sure  a  guide  to  the 
student. 

Allston  stayed  only  a  few  months  in  Paris  during  this 
visit  (1804) — but  he  was  not  idle.  He  painted  some 
compositions  of  his  own,  and  made  a  copy  from  Rubens. 
He  then  turned  his  face  to  the  sweet  South,  and  jour- 
neyed leisurely  on  to  Italy,  crossing  the  Alps  by  the  Pass 
of  St.  Gothard.  He  has  given  a  few  lines  to  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  scene  on  the  earth.  "  I  passed  a 
night  and  saw  t^i^,  su;i  risepn.Xiake  M^ggiore.     Such  a 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  15 

sunrise !  The  giant  Alps  seemed  literally  to  rise  from 
their  purple  beds,  and  putting  on  their  crowns  of  gold, 
to  send  up  hallelujahs  almost  audible." 

Nearly  four  years  he  no^v  passed  in  Italy,  princi- 
pally in  Rome.  In  that  sad  but  beautiful  land,  in  that 
wondrous  City  where  Art  and  History  have  clustered  their 
treasures,  with  the  most  gifted  of  his  own  countrymen, 
and  the  artists  of^Europe,  his  existence  was  like  a  blissful 
dream.  The  climate,  associations,  the  arts,  and  the  ruins 
around  him,  perfectly  accorded  with  his  intellectual  wants. 
How  intensely  they  were  appreciated  is  evident  in  his 
story  of  '  Monaldi,'  a  book  which  would  have  made-  a 
reputation  for  any  other  man.  The  faithfulness  of  de- 
scriptions interspersed  throughout  the  volume  every  one 
will  recognize  who  has  looked  upon  .those  scenes  with 
feeling  and  discernment :  while  his  discussions  on  art, 
the  history  of  human  passions,  and  female  loveliness,  are 
dramatic  and  profound. 

Here  he  met  Coleridge,  and  we  can  imagine  how 
the  hours  passed  beneath  that  sky,  amid  those  ruins, 
statues,  and  olive  groves,  winged  by  the  fluent  wisdom, 
and  noble  sympathy  of  two  such  beings.  He  studied 
in  a  private  academy  with  Vanderlyn  and  with  Thor- 
valsden,  whose  name  has  since  that  day  been  inscribed 
upon  the  temple  of  sculpture  which  will  last  for  ever. 
He  passes  the  following  high  eulogium  upon  the  author 
of  the  Ancient  Mariner :  "  To  no  other  man  whom  I 
have  known  do  I  owe  so  much,  intellectually,  as  to  Mr. 
Coleridge,  with  whom  I  became  acquainted  in  Rome, 
and  who  has  honored  me  with  his  friendship  for  more 
than  five  and  twenty  years.  He  used  to  call  Rome  the 
silent  city ;  but  I  never  could  think  of  it  as  such  while 
with  him ;  for  meet  him  when  or  where  I  would,  the 


ig  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

fountain  of  his  mind  was  never  dry ;  but  like  the  far- 
reaching  aqueducts,  that  once  supplied  this  mistress  of 
the  world,  its  living  streams  seemed  specially  to  flow  for 
every  classic  ruin  over  which  we  wandered.  And  when 
I  recall  some  of  our  walks  under  the  pines  of  the  villa 
Borghese,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  dream  that  I  had  once 
listened  to  Plato  in  the  groves  of  the  Academy.  It  was 
there  he  taught  me  this  golden-rule — never  to  judge  of 
any  work  of  art  by  its  defects ;  a  rule  as  wise  as  benev- 
olent, and  one  that  while  it  has  spared  me  much  pain, 
has  widened  my  sphere  of  pleasure." 

Some  kind  friends  have  furnished  me  with  rich  chap-" 
ters  in  the  history  of  Allston's  Italian  life,  and  there  is 
not  a  line  of  his  own  writing,  which  relates  to  that  pe- 
riod, that  1  do  not  omit  with  pain ;  for  it  seems  like 
clouding  the  light  which  streams  over  one  of  his  own 
beautiful  creations.  These  sketches  at  best  will,  I  fear, 
only  give  gleamings  of  light.  I  will  not  omit  one  pas- 
sage where  he  speaks  of  the  old  masters : 

"  It  is  needless  to  say  how  I  was  affected  by  Raffaele, 
the  greatest  master  of  the  affections  in  our  art.  In 
beauty  he  has  often  been  surpassed,  but  in  grace,  the 
native  grace  of  character,  in  the  expression  of  intellect, 
and,  above  all,  sanctity,  he  has  no  equal.  What  particu- 
larly struck  me  in  his  works,  was  the  genuine  life  (if  I 
may  so  call  it)  that  seemed,  without  impairing  the  dis- 
tinctive character,  to  pervade  them  all;  for  even  his 
humblest  figures  have  a  something  either  in  look,  air,  or 
gesture,  akin  to  the  venustas  of  his  own  nature ;  as  if, 
like  living  beings  under  the  influence  of  a  master  spirit, 
they  had  partaken,  in  spite  of  themselves,  a  portion  of 
the  charm  which  swayed  them.  This  power  of  infusing 
one's  own  life,  as  it  were,  into  that  which  is  feigned, 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  ♦*J7 

appears  to  me  the  sole  prerogative  of  genius.  In  a 
work  of  art  this  is  what  a  man  may  well  call  his  own, 
for  it  cannot  be  borrowed  or  imitated.  Of  Michael 
Angelo  I  know  not  how  to  speak  in  adequate  terms  of 
reverence'.  With  all  his  faults  (but  who  is  without 
them)  even  Raffaele  bows  before  him.  As  I  stood  be- 
neath his  colossal  Prophets  and  Sybils,  still  more  colossal 
in  spirit,  I  felt  as  if  in  the  presence  of  messengers  from 
the  other  world,  with  the  destiny  of  man  in  their  breath  * 
— in  repose  even  terrible.  I  cannot  agree  with  Sir 
Joshua,  that  the  '  Vision  of  Ezekiel '  of  Rafifaele,  or 
the  *  Moses  '  of  Parmegiano,  have  any  thing  in  common 
with  Michael  Angelo.  Their  admiration  of  Michael 
Angelo  may  have  elevated  their  forms  into  a  more  digni- 
fied and  majestic  race  ;  but  still  left  them  men  whose 
feet  had  never  trod  other  than  this  earth.  The  super- 
natural was  beyond  the  reach  of  both.  But  no  one 
would  mistake  the  Prophets  of  Michael  Angelo  for  in- 
habitants of  our  world ;  yet  they  are  true  to  the  imagi- 
nation as  the  beings  about  us  to  our  senses.  I  am  not 
undervaluing  these  great  Artists  when  I  deny  them  a 
kindred  genius  with  Michael  Angelo ;  they  had  both  a 
genius  of  their  own,  and  high  qualities  which  nature  had 
denied  the  other." 

As  a  proof  of  estimation  in  which  Allston  was  held 
in  Rome,  Prof.  Wier  of  West  Point,  who  was  studying 
in  that  city  many  years  after  Allston  had  left,  says,  that 
the  Artists  of  Rome  inquired  of  him  about  an  American 
Painter,  fof  whom  they  had  no  name  but  the  American 
Titian.  When  Wier  mentioned  Allston's  name,  they 
exclaimed,  "  that's  the  man."  I  have  heard  celebrated 
European  artists  say  that  they  believed  no  Painter's  col- 


|g  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

oring,  for  two  hundred  years,  has  so  closely  resembled 
Titian's. 

In  1809,  Allston  returned  to  America,  but  only  to 
remain  three  years.  He  found  little  to  encourage  Art 
or  Artists  in  his  own  land.  He  married  a  sister  of  the 
lamented  Channing,  and  in  1811  returned  with  his  wife 
to  England,  taking  with  him  as  his  pupil  S.  F.  B.  Morse, 
who  has  since  won  so  bright  a  fame  by  the  invention  of 
the  Magnetic  Telegraph. 

Allston  may  now  be  said  to  have  completed  his  studies, 
if  studies  may  be  termed  complete  which  are  never  done, 
and  he  took  up  his  pencil  for  those  great  pictures  which 
have  given  immortality  to  his  name.  He  gives  the  best 
accouRt  of  them  himself: 

"  My  first  work  after  returning  to  London — with  the 
exception  of  the  small  pictures,  (if  they  can  be  called 
exceptions,  which  were  carried  on  at  the  same  time  with 
the  larger  ones,) — was  the  '  Dead  Man  revived  by  Eli- 
sha's  Bones,'  which  is  now  in  Philadelphia.  My  progress 
in  this  picture  was  interrupted  by  a  dangerous  illness, 
which  after  some  months  of  great  suffering  compelled  me 
to  remove  to  Clifton,  near  Bristol.  My  recovery,  for 
which  I  was  indebted  under  Providence  to  one  of  the 
best  friends  and  most  skillful  of  the  Faculty,  was  slow 
and  painful,  leaving  me  still  an  invalid  when  1  returned 
to  London — and  indeed,  as  my  medical  friend  predicted, 
in  some  degree  so  to  this  day."  Dunlap  tells  us  that 
Allston  alludes  to  Dr.  King,  (who  married  a  sister  ol 
Mrs.  Edgeworth,)  to  whom  he  was  introduced  by  his 
friend  Southey.  "  The  '  Dead  Man,' "  continues  Allston, 
"was  first  exhibited  at  the  British  Institution,  commonly 
called  the  British  Gallery — an  institution  patronized  by 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  19 

the  principal  nobility  and  gentry — the  Prince  Regent 
then  President :  I  there  obtained  the  first  prize  of  two 
hundred  guineas.  As  I  returned  to  London  chiefly  to 
finish  this  picture,  that  done,  I  went  back  to  Bristol,  where 
I  painted  and  left  a  number  of  pictures.  Among  them 
were  half-length  portraits  of  my  friend  Mr.  Coleridge, 
and  my  medical  friend  Mr.  King,  of  Clifton.  I  have 
painted  but  few  portraits,  and  these  I  think  are  my  best. 
My  second  journey  to  London  was  followed  by  a  calamity 
of  which  I  cannot  speak — the  death  of  my  wife — leaving 
me  nothing  but  my  Art,  which  then  seemed  to  me  as 
nothing.  But  of  my  domestic  concerns,  I  shall  avoid 
speaking,  as  I  do  not  consider  them  proper  subjects  for 
living  biography." 

This  blow  fell  heavily  upon  Allston.  He  had  just 
taken  a  house  in  London,  and  around  his  fire-side,' where 
such  men  cluster  all  their  treasures,  gathered  many  of 
the  choicest  spirits  that  have  illuminated  the  Literature 
and  the  Arts  of  the  present  century.  There  was  Cole- 
ridge, and  Southey,  and  Leslie,  and  Morse,  who  had 
been  his  companions  in  Italy;  who  had  walked  with 
him  on  the  terraces  of  Clifton  in  the  pure  fresh  air,  when 
he  was  recovering  from  a  long  illness ;  his  studio  and  his 
home  were  by  the  same  hearth-stone.  But  a  few  days 
after  he'  led  his  wife  across  the  threshold  of  his  new 
home,  she  was  taken  from  him  for  ever.  Some  men  can 
pass  such  scenes  unscathed,  but  Allston  was  not  one  of 
them.  The  bolt  prostrated  him  as  it  fell,  and  the  cloud 
cast  its  shadow  over  his  path  for  many  years. 

The  '  Dead  Man'  won  the  first  prize  of  two  hun- 
dred guineas  from  the  British  Institution,  and  the  Painter 
could  have  sold  it  for  a  large  sum.  But  a  fortunate  oc- 
currence brought  it  to  this  country.     Mr.  McMurtie,  of 


20  WASHINGTON   ALLSTON. 

Philadelphia,  proposed  to  Allston  to  put  the  picture  into 
his  hands,  and  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  paid  for  it 
$3,500 — hardly  a  tithe  of  its  real  value.  But  the  reader 
will  see  the  noble  spirit  of  the  painter  in  the  extract  here 
given  from  his  letter  to  Mr.  McMurtie.  He  writes  from 
London,  the  13th  of  June,  1816: 

"  When  you  first  made  me  the  generous  offer  of  taking 
out  my  picture,  you  may  remember  with  what  implicit 
confidence  I  submitted  the  entire  management  and  dispo- 
sal of  it  to  yourself,  and  Mr.  Sully.  I  would  not  have  done 
this  if  I  had  not  been  fully  assured  that,  whatever  might 
be  the  event,  I  should  have  every  reason  to  be  grateful, 
for  even  if  it  had  wholly  failed  of  profit,  I  should  still 
have  felt  myself  indebted  for  every  exertion  that  kindness 
and  liberality  could  make.  If  such  would  have  been 
my  feelings  in  the  event  of  a  total  failure,  (an  event  too 
which  I  had  suffered  myself  almost  to  anticipate,)  you 
may  well  judge  what  I  now  feel  at  the  account  of  this 
most  agreeable  and  unexpected  result.  I  beg  you  both 
to  accept  my  warmest  and  most  grateful  acknowledg- 
ments. The  sale  is  in  every  respect  highly  gratifying, 
both  as  affording  a  very  seasonable  pecuniary  supply, 
and  on  account  of  the  flattering  circumstances  attending 
it.  As  necessary  and  acceptable  as  the  money  is  to  me, 
I  assure  you  I  think  more  of  the  honor  conferred  by  the 
Academy  becoming  purchasers  of  my  work." 

Allston  has  himself  given  a  description  of  this  great 
work.  The  composition  is  founded  on  the  following 
passage  from  the  Jewish  Annals  :  "  And  the  bands  of 
the  Moabites  invaded  the  land  at  the  coming  in  of  the 
year.  And  it  came  to  pass  as  they  were  burying  a  man, 
that  behold  they  spied  a  band  of  men,  and  they  cast  the 
man  into  the  sepulchre  of  Elisha  :  and  when  the  man  was 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  21 

let  down,  and  touched  the  bones  of  Elisha,  he  revived." 
2d  Kings:  c.  xiii.,  v.  20,  21. 

"  The  Sepulchre  of  Elisha,"  says  the  Painter,  "  is 
supposed  to  be  in  a  cavern  among  the  mountains,  such 
places  being  in  those  early  ages  used  for  the  interment 
of  the  dead.  In  the  foreground  is  the  man  at  the  mo- 
ment of  reanimation,  in  which  the  Artist  has  attempted, 
both  in  the  action  and  color,  to  express  the  gradual  re- 
coiling of  life  upon  death.  Behind  him  in  a  dark  recess 
are  the  bones  of  the  Prophet,  the  skull  of  which  is  pe- 
culiarized  by  a  preternatural  light.  At  his  head  and  feet 
are  two  Slaves,  bearers  of  the  body  ;  the  rope  still  in 
their  hands  by  which  they  have  let  it  down,  indicating 
the  act  that  moment  performed :  the  emotion  attempted 
in  the  figure  at  the  feet  is  that  of  astonishment  and  fear, 
modified  by  doubt,  as  if  still  requiring  further  confirma- 
tion of  the  miracle  before  him  ;  while  in  the  figure  at 
the  head,  it  is  that  of  unqualified  immovable  terror.  In  the 
most  prominent  group  above,  is  a  soldier  in  the  act  of 
rushing  from  the  scene.  The  violent  and  terrified  action 
of  this  figure  was  chosen  to  illustrate  the  miracle,  by  the 
contrast  it  exhibits  to  that  habitual  firmness  supposed  to 
belong  to  the  military  character,  showing  his  emotion  to 
proceed  from  no  mortal  cause.  The  figure  grasping  the 
soldier's  arm,  and  pressing  forward  to  look  at  the  body, 
is  expressive  of  terror  overcome  by  curiosity.  The  group 
on  the  left,  or  rather  behind  the  soldier,  is  composed  of 
two  men  of  different  ages,  earnestly  listening  to  the  ex- 
planation of  a  priest,  who  is  directing  their  thoughts  to 
Heaven,  as  the  source  of  the  miraculous  change  ;  the  boy 
clinging  to  the  old  man  is  too  young  to  comprehend  the 
nature  of  the  miracle,  but  like  children  of  his  age,  uncon- 
sciously partakes  of  the  general  impulse.     The  group  on 


igg  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

the  right  forms  an  episode,  consisting  of  the  wife  and 
daughter  of  the  reviving  man.  The  wife,  unable  to  with- 
stand the  conflicting  emotions  of  the  past  and  the  present, 
has  fainted,  and  whatever  joy  and  astonishment  may  have 
been  excited  in  the  daughter  by  the  sudden  revival  of  her 
father,  they  are  wholly  absorbed  in  distress  and  solicitude 
for  her  mother.  The  young  man,  with  outstretched 
arms,  actuated  by  impulse  (not  motive),  announces  to 
the  wife,  by  a  sudden  exclamation,  the  revival  of  her 
husband.  The  other  youth,  of  a  mild  and  devotional 
character,  is  still  in  the  attitude  of  one  conversing — the 
conversation  being  abruptly  broken  off  by  his  impetuous 
companion.  The  Sentinels  in  the  distance  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  cavern,  mark  the  depth  of  the  picture,  and 
indicate  the  alarm  which  had  occasioned  this  tumultuary 
burial." 

Allston  remained  in  England  till  1818,  and  painted 
his  greatest  works.  Of  one  of  his  finest  pieces  he  says  : 
"  I  am  now  engaged  on  *  Jacob's  Dream,'  a  subject  I 
have  long  had  in  contemplation.  It  has  been  often 
painted  before,  but  I  have  treated  it  in  a  very  different  way 
from  any  picture  I  have  ever  seen ;  for  instead  of  one  or 
two  Angels,  I  have  introduced  a  vast  multitude  ;  and  in- 
stead of  a  ladder  or  narrow  steps,  I  have  endeavored  to 
give  the  idea  of  unmeasurable  flights  of  steps,  with  plat- 
form above  platform,  rising  and  extending  into  space 
immeasurable.  Whether  this  conception  will  please  the 
matter  of  fact  critics,  1  doubt.  Nay,  I  am  certain  that 
men  without  imagination  will  call  it  stuff"!  But  if  I 
succeed  at  all,  it  will  be  with  those  whom  it  will  be  an 
honor  to  please.  The  picture  is  of  the  same  size  with 
the  landscape  I  sent  out."  He  here  alludes  to  a  picture 
he  sent  to  McMurtie,  of  Philadelphia,  with  '  the  Mother 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  23 

and  the  Child.' — "  I  wish,"  said  the  Artist  to  his  friend, 
in  speaking  of  this  last  exquisite  piece,  which  he  sent  as 
a  present,  "  I  wish  you  not  to  consider  it  now  as  '  the 
Virgin  and  Child,'  but  simply  as  a  mother  watching  her 
sleeping  offspring.  A  Madonna  should  be  youthful ;  but 
my  mother  is  a  matron.  *  *  I  have  a  double  plea- 
sure in  offering  this  little  present,  inasmuch  as,  since  the 
retouching,  I  think  it  one  of  my  best  works ;  and  as  I 
know  it  will  be  appreciated  by  one  who  can  truly  ap- 
preciate whatever  merit  it  may  have.  It  does  not  always 
happen  that  the  possessors  of  pictures  are  also  possessed 
of  taste,  and  therefore  it  is  a  source  of  no  small  gratifica- 
tion to  an  Artist  to  know  that  his  works  are  cherished  by 
those  who  will  neither  mistake,  nor  overlook  their  excel- 
lencies, however  subordinate." 

Allston  thus  speaks  of  his  most  celebrated  pictures, 
omitting  many  of  his  beautiful  works  : — "  I  will  men- 
tion only  a  few  of  the  principal  which  I  painted  dur- 
ing my  fii'st  visit  to  England,  viz. :  The  '  Dead  Man,' 
&c.,  '  The  Angel  liberating  St.  Peter  from  Prison.' 
This  picture  was  painted  for  Sir  George  Beaumont, 
(the  figures  larger  than  life),  and  is  now  in  a  church  at 
Ashby  de  la  Zouch.  *  Jacob's  Dream,'  in  the  possession 
of  the  Earl  of  Egremont.  There  are  many  figures  in 
this  picture  which  I  have  always  considered  one  of  my 
happiest  efforts.  '  Elijah  in  the  Desert.'  This  I  brought 
to  America,  but  it  has  gone  back,  having  been  purchased 
here  by  Mr.  Labouchere,  M.  P.  The  '  Angel  Uriel  in 
the  Sun,'  in  possession  of  the  Marquis  of  Stafford. 
This  is  a  colossal  fore-shortened  figure,  that  if  standing 
upright  would  be  fourteen  feet  high,  but  being  fore- 
shortened, occupies  a  space  but  of  nine  feet.  The 
Directors  of  the  British   Gallery  presented  me  with  a 


24  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

hundred  and  fifty  guineas,  as  a  token  of  their  approba- 
tion of  '  Uriel.'  Since  my  return  to  America,  I  have 
painted  a  number  of  pictures,  but  chiefly  small  ones.  1 
shall  mention  only  a  few  of  the  larger  ones,  viz. :  '  Jere- 
miah dictating  his  Prophecy  to  Baruch,  the  Scribe:'  the 
figures  as  large  as  life.  *  Saul  and  the  Witch  of  Endor,' 
and    *  Spalatro's  Vision  of  the  Bloody  Hand.'  "     *     * 

It  may  not  be  deemed  improper  here  to  say  a  word 
of  what  has  been  called  Allston's  "  Great  Picture," 
for  it  has  been  the  subject  of  no  little  misunderstanding. 
It  was  unfortunate  that  such  vague  and  almost  boundless 
expectations  in  regard  to  it  should  have  been  excited  in 
the  public  mind.  It  is  far  better  that  genius  should 
burst  upon  the  world  with  some  master-piece,  than  fore- 
stall its  eager  reception  by  vast  expectancy.  In  this  case 
we  believe  AUston  was  quite  passive  in  the  matter.  His 
injudicious  friends  whispered  about  that  he  was  engaged 
upon  a  stupendous  work,  and  it  was  not  long  before  a 
mysterious  interest  became  attached  to  the  rumor. 
Years  passed,  and  the  picture  did  not  make  its  appear- 
ance. Meantime  a  few  individuals  had  been  favored 
with  a  glimpse  of  the  design.  The  subject  was  known 
to  be  '  Belshazzar's  Feast.'  Delay  only  quickened  curi- 
osity, and  inflamed  expectation.  At  length  it  was  said 
the  canvas  was  rolled  up,  and  the  great  work  abandoned. 
Two  reasons  have  been  assigned  for  this ;  one,  that  an 
execution  had  been  levied  on  the  work,  in  consequence 
of  which  the  Artist  had  resigned  it  in  disgust ;  the  other, 
that  the  great  idea  of  the  picture,  that  of  making  the 
light  all  radiate  from  the  handwriting  on  the  wafl,  had 
been  anticipated  by  Martin. 

In  1831  AUston  says,  in  a  letter  to  McMurtie,  "  I  have 
but  a  few  weeks  smce  been  established  in  my  new  paint- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  25 

ing-room,  which  I  have  built  in  this  place  (Cambridge- 
port).  Belshazzar  has  been  rolled  up  and  reposing  in  a 
packing  case  for  more  than  three  years,  in  consequence  of 
my  former  large  room  in  Boston  passing  into  the  hands  of 
a  new  owner,  who  has  converted  it  into  a  livery  stable.  *  * 
Belshazzar  will  still  remain  some  time  in  his  case ;  some 
embarrassing  debts,  and  my  immediate  necessities,  being 
the  cause.  I  must  be  free  in  mind  before  I  can  finish. 
I  trust,  however,  that  the  time  will  not  be  very  long." 

In  another  letter  he  thus  speaks  of  it : — "  I  could 
long  ago  have  finished  this,  and  other  pictures  as  large, 
had  my  mind  been  free ;  for  indeed  I  have  already 
bestowed  upon  it  as  much  mental  and  manual  labor  as, 
under  another  state  of  mind,  would  have  completed  sev- 
eral such  pictures.  But  to  go  into  the  subject  of  all  the 
obstacles  and  the  hindrances  upon  my  spirit,  would 
hardly  be  consistent  with  delicacy  and  self-respect.  Nor 
could  I  be  far  enough  understood  if  I  should  do  it,  to 
answer  by  it  any  essential  purpose.  Those  feelings 
which  are  most  intimately  blended  with  one's  nature  and 
which  most  powerfully  and  continuously  influence  us,  are 
the  very  feelings  most  difficult  to  give  any  distinct  ap- 
prehension of  to  another."  Thus  far  Allston  lifted  the 
veil  which  concealed  his  feelings  from  the  world — it  is 
not  for  us  to  invade  the  sanctuary.  It  is  enough  for  us 
to  know  that  few  have  been  subjected  to  keener  trials 
than  were  decreed  to  that  gifted  and  wounded  spirit. 
But  we  cannot  suppress  a  burst  of  indignation  when  we 
think  that  the  sordid  soul  of  some  sordid  wretch,  who 
weighed  dollars  against  Allston's  Art,  and  could  see  noth- 
ing in  Belshazzar's  feast  but  three  hundred  yards  of  can- 
vass, should  have  locked  up  that  half-formed  vision, 
when  a  few  more  weeks  of  the  master's  magical  pencil 


m 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 


would  have  given  the  world  a  creation  that  our  country- 
men three  hundred  years  hence  would  speak  of  as  the 
Italians  now  speak  of  the  Last  Judgment  of  Michael 
Angelo.  It  is  well  known  that  not  until  a  few  months 
before  his  death  did  AUston  resume  the  work.  He 
then  erased  several  figures,  altered  his  plan,  and  in  the 
midst  of  these  changes  for  ever  ceased  from  his  labors  ! 
It  remains  a  great  fragment.  His  power  and  style  are, 
however,  clearly  evident.  To  the  Artist  it  will  ever  be 
an  object  of  veneration,  for  it  bears  the  last  touches  of 
the  great  pencil. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  exhibition  to  the  gen- 
uine lover  of  Art  ever  seen  in  this  country,  was  that  of 
AUstori's  pictures.  His  friends  in  Boston  took  great 
pains  to  collect  them,  and  when  arranged  in  the  same 
room,  their  number,  variety,  and  peculiar  excellence,  af- 
forded an  eloquent  reply  to  the  charge  of  indolence  some-, 
times  brought  against  the  great  Artist.  No  idea  should 
be  more  strenuously  urged  with  us,  in  regard  to  Art,  than 
that  quality,  and  not  quantity,  is  the  test  of  merit  Con- 
sidering Allston's  constitution,  his  life  was  one  of  singu- 
lar industry.  His  mind  was  intensely  active  to  the  last 
hour  of  existence,  and  like  all  men  of  true  genius,  he 
did  not  covet  mere  fame,  so  much  as  the  gratification  of 
that  ideal  which  glowed  in  his  soul.  Consequently,  he 
often  destroyed  the  labor  of  months.  In  this  exhibition 
were  his  'Dead  Man,'  'Jeremiah,'  'Alpine  Scenery,' 
'  Rosalie,'  and  others.  Those  who  have  seen  AUston's 
pictures  can  readily  recall  them,  for  they  live  in  the  im- . 
agination.  He  was  a  great  Poet,  although  the  highest 
and  purest  form  of  the  expression  of  his  poetry  was 
through  his  pencil.  His  crowning  distinction  among  the 
painters  of  his  country  was  the  power  of  copying  nature 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 


27 


with  thorough  fidelity.  But  he  did  not  like  some,  even 
great  Artists,  stop  here.  He  imitated  not  only  her  de- 
tails, but  her  creative  power — combining  scattered  beau- 
ties, seizing  on  grand  effects,  and  exalting  the  material 
with  the  earnest  intelligence  of  a  lofty  soul. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Allston  was  remarkable. 
His  figure  was  slight,  and  his  action  significant  of  spir- 
itual grace.  His  long  hair  hung  carelessly  around  his 
neck.  His  face  was  small,  and  actually  ploughed  over 
with  a  kind  of  nervous  ruggedness,  finely  illustrated  in  his 
bust  by  Clevenger.  His  eyes  were  large  and  lustrous, 
and  the  first  sight  of  the  Painter  made  the  stranger  feel 
that  he  was  a  remarkable  man.  Even  as  he  glided  in 
his  unpretending  way  along  the  street,  there  was  an  ab- 
stractive, an  unearthly  air  about  him  that  often  made  the 
careless  stop — and  yet  there  never  was  a  gifted  man  so 
utterly  free  from  all  consciousness  of  superiority.  His 
mind  was  fixed,  not  on  his  reputation,  but  on  that  exalt- 
ed standard  of  excellence  towards  which  he  earnestly 
pressed.  He  thirsted  for  a  satisfaction  which  praise  and 
consideration  never  yield.  And  who  that  knew  him  can 
ever  forget  the  graces  of  his  social  character — the  simple 
hospitality  with  which  he  welcomed  the  visitor,  the  unaf- 
fected interest  with  which  he  entered  into  the  feelings 
and  prospects  of  every  votary  of  Art — his  sweet  encour- 
agement to  the  young — his  ardent  sympathy  with  every 
form  of  beauty  and  of  truth — his  winning  recognition 
of  nature  under  every  disguise,  and  of  honest  worth,  how- 
ever unacknowledged.  Add  to  all  this  a  beautiful  self- 
respect  and  childlike  frankness,  and  nothing  is  wanting 
to  win  the  hearts  of  the  gifted  and  the  generous. 

The  latter  years  of  Allston's  life  were  passed  in  Cam- 
bridgeport,  an  unattractive  village  about  equally  distant 

3 


2g  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

from  the  city  of  Boston  anAHarvard  University.  Proba- 
bly he  chose  this  residence  partly  from  motives  of  economy, 
and  partly  that  he  might  have  easy  access  to  literary 
society.  We  know  not  indeed  how  far  his  health  and 
circumstances  may  have  rendered  seclusion  necessary, 
but  it  was  felt  by  many  who  had  no  claim  to  the  Artist's 
acquaintance,  that  he  was  most  unjustly  neglected.  In  the 
Old  World,  he  would  not  have  been  suffered  thus  to  with- 
draw himself  from  the  society  he  was  fitted  to  adorn  and 
improve.  So  near  any  University  in  Europe,  he  would 
have  been  offered  a  Professorship,  to  instruct  the  young 
men  of  the  nation  in  the  History  and  Claims  of  Art. 

A  great  Painter  in  the  vicinity  of  so  opulent  and 
refined  a  Metropolis,  should  certainly  have  found  a  wider 
and  more  intimate  recognition,  more  cordial  and  sponta- 
neous sympathy.  True,  his  humble  abode  was  sought 
out  by  the  young  worshipper  of  Art,  who  approached 
it  with  reverence  and  left  it  with  gratitude.  True,  his 
presence  was  sometimes  invoked  at  the  table  of  an  opu- 
lent merchant  of  the  neighboring  city,  who  desired  to 
exhibit  a  native  Lion  to  some  curious  foreigner,  and  it 
is  also  true  that  Lord  Morpeth's  first  inquiry,  after  the 
British  Steamer  reached  the  Boston  pier,  was,  "  where 
does  Allston  live  ?" — his  first  object  being  to  visit  bis 
Studio  and  give  him  a  commission,  since  he  had  tried  in 
vain  to  buy  one  of  his  pictures  in  England.  Labouchere 
managed  to  hunt  out  his  dwelling  and  give  him  gold, 
which  would  buy  bread,  for  his  '  Elijah  in  the  Desert.' 
De  Tocqueville,  and  such  men,  who  could  not  accept 
every  invitation  to  be  lionized,  took  pains  to  go  out  to 
Cambridgeport  to  show  their  veneration  for  the  man  who 
had  painted  the  '  Dead  Man.'  But  as  a  general  rule,  we 
are  told  he  was  left  to  his  retirement  and  his  poverty,  by 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  29 

those  who  might  have  been  proud  of  doing  homage  to 
the  genius  and  sitting  in  the  sunlight  of  such  a  spirit. 
But  it  would  be  sad  enough  if  any  body  should  suppose 
we  lament  this  on  Allston's  account — Oh!  no.  That 
Painter,  like  all  real  Painters,  is  above  all  such  lamen- 
tation. . 

A  friend  of  Allston  tells  me  a  hundred  touching  sto- 
ries about  him.  Here  is  one  :  "  While  in  England,  he 
threw  off  a  little  painting  of  great  beauty — the  subject  of 
which,  though  perfectly  free,  to  his  own  perception,  from 
all  moral  objection,  might  be  perverted  to  evil  associa- 
tions. The  idea  occurred  to  him  while  sitting  alone 
the  evening  he  had  sent  it  to  the  purchaser.  No  sooner 
did  the  impression  seize  him  than,  with  conscientious 
sensibility  to  the  high  claims  of  his  Art,  he  wrote  the 
owner  of  the  picture,  stating  his  scruples,  begging  its 
return.  His  desire  was  reluctantly  granted.  He  sent 
back  the  gold  with  his  thanks,  and  burned  the  picture. 
And  yet  the  Painter  was  poor,  and  needed  money  in  that 
solitude  of  London.  The  Artist  who  knew  these  facts, 
had  known  Allston  for  years. — He  says  that  when  he 
looked  on  him  after  this  sublime  act,  notwithstanding  his 
familiarity  with  the  Painter,  he  was  struck  with  a  sud- 
den veneration. 

Allston  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  talkers  of  the 
age.  Like  most  persons  of  intellectual  taste  and  nervous 
temperament,  his  spirits  freshened  at  night.  For  this 
reason,  he  was  never  an  early  riser — worked  at  his  easel 
till  late  afternoon,  and  gave  the  evenings  to  social  enjoy- 
ment. Then  he  and  his  companions  '  took  no  note  of 
time.'  Through  the  vapory  clouds  of  the  grateful  weed 
his  snowy  head  loomed  with  a  kind  o^  priestly  beauty ; 
and  taste,  criticism,  description,  anecdote,  and  poetry, 


^  WASHINGTON   ALLSTON. 

Streamed  forth  for  hours  together,  like  eloquent  oracles, 
from  his  lips.  Some  of  these  "  better  moments"  will 
never  fade  from  the  remembrance  of  those  who  knew  and 
loved  the  man,  while  they  revered  the  Painter. 

His  conversation  often  tinged  itselfwith  the  colorings 
of  the  Spiritual  world,  and  the  few  who  were  admitted  into 
the  tabernacle  of  his  faith,  bear  witness  to  its  exalted 
character.  A  life  of  earnest  communion  with  the  true 
and  the  beautiful,  enabled  him  to  speak  of  their  mysteries 
as  *  one  having  authority.'  Never,  we  are  told,  was  his 
language  more  significant,  clear  and  spiritual,  than  on 
the  night  of  his  death.  This  event  was  very  unexpected. 
He  had  painted  all  day,  and  with  unusual  cheerfulness 
talked  away  the  evening  with  his  kindred.  At  a  late 
hour  he  complained  of  a  pain  in  his  breast,  to  which  he  had 
been  occasionally  subject.  His  wife  (a  sister  to  Dana, 
the  Poet,)  left  the  room  to  bring  some  remedy,  which 
had  proved  serviceable  on  former  occasions.  When  she 
returned,  he  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair  apparently  in 
a  doze.  She  touched  his  shoulder ;  his  eyes  opened  with 
a  calm,  sweet  expression,  and  closed  again  ;  he  sighed 
gently,  and  ceased  to  breathe.  Thus  was  softly  loosened 
the  tie  that  bound  that  gifted  and  pure  spirit  to  mortal 
life.  He  passed  away  in  the  full  activity  and  conscious- 
ness of  his  powers,  without  any  struggle  or  decay. 

There  is  probably  no  other  Government  in  the  world 
but  our  own,  that  would  not  have  called  on  such  a  man 
to  illustrate  its  History.  While  he  was  in  the  full  vigor 
of  youth,  and  the  glow  of  creative  genius,  Congress  had 
BO  bread  to  give  him,  and  he  was  obhged  to  accept  prizes 
from  British  Institutions.  But  the  Government  discov- 
ered their  mistake,  as  they  generally  do,  only  when  it  was 
too  late  to  correct  it.     He  was  offered  a  valuable  com- 


WASHLVGTON  ALLSTON.  gj 

mission  too  late,  and  he  declined  it,  I  am  told,  in  an  elo- 
quent and  affecting  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State.  A 
document  which  will  one  day  be  pointed  to  by  the  His- 
torian, as  a  sarcasm  too  bitter  for  any  country  but  our 
own — a  country  which  produces  many  great  Artists,  but 
starves  them  all  out  of  it — a  practice  more  cruel  than 
the  vulture,  for  she  only  devours  her  young. 

When  the  great  Thorvalsden,  the  friend  and  compan- 
ion of  Allston,  went  home  to  Copenhagen  to  die,  after 
his  myriad  creations  of  grandeur  and  beauty,  he  was  re- 
ceived with  the  thunder  of  cannon  along  the  coast,  and 
processions  and  gala  festas  bespoke  the  general  enthu- 
siasm. He  was  greeted  back  to  his  country  with  the 
honors  decreed  to  a  Roman  Victor,  and  became  a  compan- 
ion of  his  Sovereign.  When  he  died  the  King  conducted 
his  funeral.  He  followed  him  to  the  grave  uncovered, 
as  chief  mourner,  attended  by  all  his  Court,  and  with  his 
own  hands  he  helped  lay  the  great  Sculptor  in  his  tomb. 
There  were  public  demonstrations  of  grief,  and  in  the 
Court  and  throughout  the  City,  there  were  signs  of 
mourning,  which  silently  told  the  stranger  that  some 
great  public  calamity  had  fallen. 

As  great  a  man  was  Washington  Allston  :  and  his 
works,  although  not  as  numerous,  display  as  high  an  order 
of  talent.  He  was  gifted  with  a  Poetical  and  artistic 
genius,  Coleridge  once  remarked  to  Campbell,  so  the 
latter  told  me,  unsurpassed  by  any  man  of  his  age  ! 

When  Allston  died,  who  had  had  a  few  friends  who 
not  only  appreciated  his  genius,  but  showed  their  sym- 
pathy in  a  more  substantial  way ;  these  friends,  who  had 
not  forsaken  him  while  living,  gathered  around  him  when 
he  came  to  die  :  and  their  example  was  followed  by  a 
numerous  funeral  train,  as  is  always  the  case  when  it  is 


g2  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON. 

too  late  to  do  any  good.  And  there  he  lies,  for  aught 
I  know,  without  a  monument,  or  the  prospect  of  any 
worthy  of  a  genius,  who,  when  taste  is  improved  and 
a  love  of  the  Arts  developed  in  our  country,  will  gather 
thousands  to  the  spot  where  he  lies ;  and  the  foreigner 
who  looks  about  for  the  colossal  pile  over  his  dust,  will, 
in  its  absence ,  turn  to  the  Artists  of  the  nation  as  he 
points  to  his  resting-place,  and  say — 

"  In  yonder  grave  your  Druid  lies." 

Allston  was  appreciated  by  the  few,  but  any  one  who 
should  have  suggested  that  his  death  was  a  national  ca- 
lamity, that  called  for  demonstrations  of  national  sorrow, 
like  those  exhibited  by  the  Danes  of  that  ice-bound 
coast  to  their  Thorvalsden,  would  most  likely  have 
been  met  with  a  reply  not  unlike  the  following  :  "  Why, 
one  would  suppose  that  the  President  of  the  United 
States  was  dead ! !"  Ages  will  roll  by,  and  the  wild 
flower,  and  it  may  be  the  wild  brier,  grow  over  the 
grave  of  the  great  Poet-Painter,  and  a  long  succession  of 
Presidents  will  come,  and  men  enough  will  be  found, 
without  hunting  for  them  to  fill  that  post — but  ages  may 
yet  go  by  before  the  successor  of  Allston  appears. 

But  our  children  will  one  day  build  the  sepulchres  of 
our  Prophets,  though  their  fathers  killed  them. 


'^• 


^' 


3  5^  Kfl  i\  i^  o 


from    a    Daouerreotyfie. 


HENRY    INMAN. 


A  Pali,  of  withered  leaves  sad  fays  are  bearing 
Through  the  long  shadows  of  the  woodland  dim, 

While  mourning  sylphs,  their  golden  tresses  tearing, 
Weepfo'er  the  urn,  and  wail  the  funeral  hymn. 

In  vain  the  lark  her  sweetest  carol  singeth, 
Or  blossoms  woo  him  to  the  spangled  shade ; 

The  odorous  bank  where  laughing  cascade  ringeth. 
No  more  the  student's  favorite  seat  is  made. 

O'er  the  gay  landscape  where  his  fancy  pondered, 
Shall  dusky  clouds,  lamenting,  close  around  ; 

The  flowerets  droop,  where'er  his  foot-prints  wandered, 
A  mournful  welcome  to  the  silent  mound. 

For  him  no  more  shall  Beauty's  dark  eye  glisten, 

The  rainbow  paint  its  colors  on  the  sky  ; 
The  spirit's  fled  that  fondly  loved  to  listen 

The  Storm  King  rolling  in  his  grandeur  by. 

The  Artist's  dead  !    The  Gifled's  task  is  ended — 

The  brush  and  canvas  lie  all  useless  now  ; 
Life's  picture's  finished,  light  and  shade  are  blended 

By  the  Great  Master  to  whom  all  must  bow. 

From  a  poem  in  the  Albanr  Arfua. 


HENEY  INMAN. 


Towards  the  close  of  the  last  century  the  banks  of 
the  Mohawk  were  deeply  shaded  by  the  luxuriant  foliage 
of  our  virgin  forests.  Along  the  beautiful  vale  from 
which  Utica  has  since  risen,  with  its  glittering  spires,  its 
superb  streets  and  its  noble  mansions,  the  timid  deer  had 
scarcely  learned  to  know  the  echo  of  the  woodman's 
axe. 

On  the  green  bank  of  that  broad  river,  among  the 
earliest  settlers,  Inman's  parents,  who  had  emigrated  from 
England,  had  made  their  home.  They  were  intelligent 
people,  and  spared  no  pains  to  instruct  their  children. 
Probably  no  very  uncommon  facilities  could  have  existed 
in  so  new  a  country  for  the  development  of  artistic  taste. 
But  Dunlap  speaks  of  two  circumstances  in  Inman's 
early  life,  from  which  we  may  safely  infer  that,  to  be  a 
painter  when  he  became  a  man,  was  the  early  and  en- 
thusiastic desire  of  the  boy.  Among  the  '  movables'  of 
this  Inman  family,  brought  from  'Merrie  England,'  and 
boated  up  the  Mohawk,  probably,  were  the  charming 
books  of  the  incomparable  Madame  de  Genlis.  Dunlap 
says :  "  He  read,  as  soon  as  he  could  read,  a  translation 
from  Madame  de  Genlis'  '  Tales  of  the  Castle  ;'  and  here 
he  found  food  to  nourish  and  strengthen  his  love.  Among 
the  notes  to  one  of  the  stories  contained  in  that  work, 
are  to  be  found  brief  biographies  of  celebrated  painters 
and  sculptors.     He  never  wearied  of  poring  over  their 


i 


3g  HENRY  INMAN. 

histories  ;  and  the  name  of  Raphael  embodied  in  his 
young  mind  all  that  could  be  conceived  of  greatness.  It 
is  a  proof  of  an  extraordinary  intellect,  when  the  love  of 
facts  supersedes  the  universal  appetite  for  fiction.  The 
father  of  Inman,  perceiving  the  bent  of  his  son's  mind, 
thus  early  disclosed,  kindly  encouraged  his  inclinations." 
An  itinerant  drawing-master,  he  says,  was  engaged  to 
give  him  lessons  :  but  the  poor  man  soon  found  it  neces- 
sary to  leave  his  pupil  and  seek  some  other  field  for  ac- 
tion. 

Probably  the  youthful  aspirant,  who  was  to  be  a 
painter  at  another  day,  owed  no  great  obligations  to  this 
roving  artist  on  the  score  of  instruction ;  and  yet  even 
this  is  a  conjecture,  for  we  would  do  no  injustice  to  any 
man  who  bears  the  worthy  name  of  Artist — but  it  is  not 
difficult  to  imagine  that  this  Drawing-Master  may  have 
been  a  Perugino  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  Raphael,  since 
he  was,  for  aught  we  know,  the  first  living  illustration  of 
Art  he  had  ever  seen.  To  him  this  may  have  been  a 
wondrous  man — for  at  one  time  every  thing  is  wondrous 
to  us  all.  But  peace  to  the  Drawing-Master,  be  he  in 
the  Senate,  the  Backwoods,  Oregon,  or  Texas,  for  his 
last  known  locality  dates  back  some  six  and  thirty  years. 

But  Madame  de  Genlis  is  a  more  certain  and  notable 
personage,  and  good  fortune  threw  into  young  Inman's 
hands  the  very  book  he  wanted.  '  The  Tales  of  the 
Castle'  gave  wild,  free,  gorgeous  range  to  his  imagina- 
tion. Flushed  with  '  the  thick  coming  fancies'  of  Cas- 
tles and  Halls,  and  armor  of  Knights,  he  read  the  stories 
of  the  old  Painters,  and  clothed  them  in  glittering  robes  ; 
and  after  that  he  would  be  nothing  but  a  painter. 

Inman's  father,  from  all  we  can  learn,  was  a  man 
of  considerable   intelligence,  and  even  of  some  literary 


HENRY  INMAN.  37 

and  artistic  taste.  He  was  anxious  to  encourage  the 
ambition  of  his  boy.  Influenced  in  part  perhaps  by  this 
noble  sentiment,  he  resolved  to  leave  the  '  green  woods' 
and  return  to  New- York.  "And  there,"  says  Dunlap, 
"  the  study  of  drawing  was  recommenced  under  a  compe- 
tent teacher,  who  was  engaged  at  the  day  school  which 
Henry  attended." 

The  reader  who  likes  to  have  his  author  help  him  to 
facts  and  leave  him  to  do  his  own  thinking,  (the  very 
best  sort  of  readers,)  may  now  fancy  how  this  boy 
thought  and  felt  when  he  found  himself  suddenly  plunged 
into  the  heart  of  a  great  Capital  from  his  frontier  life. 
He  raced  about,  mornings  and  evenings  and  holidays, 
wherever  a  picture  was  to  be  seen  ;  and  we  are  told  that 
his  father  used  to  find  out  where  there  was  any  thing  rare 
in  Art,  by  way  of  exhibitions  or  private  pictures,  and 
take  his  boy  there.  I  am  informed,  that  about  this 
time  he  was  sent  to  Mr.  Halsey's  school  at  Newburgh, 
where  he  received  some  instruction  in  Latin.  How  long 
he  remained,  I  do  not  know. 

"  About  the  year  1814,"  says  Dunlap,  "  Wertmiiler's 
celebrated  picture  of  Danre  was  exhibited  at  Mr.  Jarvis' 
rooms  in  Murray-street,  and  thither,  as  to  other  exhibi- 
tions, the  father  of  the  young  aspirant  took  him."  His 
second  visit  to  the  studio  of  Jarvis,  he  has  thus  described  : 

"  On  a  second  visit,  when  I  went  alone,  I  saw  Mr. 
Jarvis  himself,  who  came  up  from  his  painting-room  into 
the  apartment  in  which  the  Danae  with  other  works  of 
Art  was  placed.  On  observing  his  entrance,  with  maul- 
stick in  his  hand  and  palette  on  his  arm,  I  removed  my 
hat  and  bowed,  presuming  that  he  was  the  proprietor  of 
the  establishment.  At  that  time  I  regarded  an  Artist 
with  peculiar  reverence.     Without  noticing  my  saluta- 


3g  ^  HENRY  INMAN. 

tion,  he  walked  rapidly  towards  me,  and  with  his  sin- 
gular look  of  scrutiny,  peered  into  my  face.  Suddenly 
he  exclaimed, '  By  Heavens  !  the  very  head  for  a  painter !' 
He  then  put  some  questions  to  me,  invited  me  below 
stairs,  and  permitted  me  to  examine  his  portfolios.  He 
shortly  after  called  upon  my  father  and  proposed  to  take 
me  as  a  pupil.  I  was  at  this  time  preparing  for  my  en- 
trance to  the  West  Point  Institution  as  a  Cadet,  for  which 
I  had  already  obtained  a  warrant.  My  father  left  the 
matter  to  myself,  and  I  gladly  acceded  to  Mr.  Jarvis'  pro- 
posal. I  accordingly  entered  upon  a  seven  years'  ap- 
prenticeship with  him.  Notwithstanding  his  phrenolo- 
gical observations  upon  my  cranium,  a  circumstance  con- 
nected with  my  first  effort  in  oil  colors  would  seem  to 
contradict  the  favorable  inference  it  contained.  Another 
of  his  students  and  myself  were  set  down  before  a  small 
tinted  landscape  with  instructions  to  copy  it.  Palettes 
and  brushes  were  put  into  our  hands,  and  to  work  we 
went.  After  much  anxious  looking  and  laborious  daub- 
ing, Mr.  Jarvis  came  up  to  see  what  progress  we  had 
made.  After  regarding  our  work  for  some  moments  in 
silence,  he  astounded  us  with  these  words :  '  Get  up ! 

Get  up !     These  are  the  d 1  attempts  I  ever  saw ! 

Here  !  Philip,  (turning  to  a  mulatto  boy  who  was  grind- 
ing paints  in  another  part  of  the  room,)  take  the  brushes 
and  finish  what  these  gentlemen  have  begun  so  brave- 
ly.' All  this  took  place  in  the  presence  of  several 
strangers,  who  had  come  to  look  at  the  gallery.  You 
can  imagine  what  a  shock  our  self-love  received.  Such 
mortifications  are  the  most  enduring  of  all  remembrances. 
Notwithstanding  this  rebufT,  I  managed  to  make  other 
and  more  successful  efforts." 

Inman   was   in   the   studio   of  Jarvis  seven  years, 


HENRY  INMAN.  gjp 

under  steady  and  thorough  training.  Few  Artists  in  this 
country  are  able  to  go  through  such  a  course.  Early' 
poverty  has  crushed  many  a  one  who,  under  the  genial 
influences  of  a  master's  studio,  would  have  perhaps 
rivalled  the  great  painters.  But  before  they  had  gone 
through  even  the  rudiments  of  Art,  they  were  obliged  to  go 
to  painting  portraits  to  pay  their  board  bills,  or  abandon 
their  career  entirely.  Not  unfrequently,  too,  young  artists 
find  it  difficult  to  get  access,  as  pupils,  to  the  studios  of 
competent  teachers  ;  and  sometimes  when  fortune  favors 
them  in  their  first  steps,  they  become  restive  under  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  master,  and  disgusted  with  the  very  "  details 
of  the  Art ;"  as  Haydon  terms  it,  they  setup  for  themselves, 
persuaded  that  practice  will  at  last  render  them  perfect. 
But  experience  demonstrates  the  folly  of  such  a  course. 
The  biographers  of  the  old  masters  tell  many  touching  sto- 
ries of  the  prostrating  toils  of  those  wonderful  men.  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  in  the  very  noon  of  his  fame,  consumed  whole 
days  and  nights  over  the  most  loathsome  dead  bodies, 
studying  anatomy.  In  fact,  nothing  has  been  more  in- 
contestably  proved,  even  in  natural  Science,  than  that 
men  who  have  been  most  gifted  by  nature  have  bent  their 
muscles  hardest  to  toil.  I  believe  that  the  same  train- 
ing, the  same  labor,  and  the  same  encouragement  in  the 
Fine  Arts  now,  which  distinguished  the  sixteenth  century, 
would  give  us  another  race  of  old  masters. 

Although  Inman's  improvement  was  so  rapid,  that 
Jarvis  used  to  put  him  "  upon  his  own  canvasses,"  yet 
he  inured  himself  to  the  toil  of  the  studio,  and  his  patience 
did  not  give  way  for  seven  years.  He  accompanied  his 
master  to  many  of  the  principal  cities  in  the  United  States, 
and  at  last  left  him  in  New  Orleans,  (I  am  informed,) 
when  his  engagement  expired — (1823.) 


Jg^  HENRY  INMAN. 

During  this  seven  years'  apprenticeship,  which  he 
used  facetiously  to  compare  with  '  Jacob's  seven  years' 
crusade  for  Rachael,'  he  employed  his  leisure  hours  in 
making  many  a  sunny  little  sketch,  which  Artists  of  great 
merit  have  since  esteemed  worthy  of  their  praises. 

In  1823  he  opened  a  studio  in  Vesey-street,  and  de- 
voted himself  almost  entirely  to  miniatures  and  paper 
sketches.  He  was  soon  applied  to  for  vignettes  for 
illustrated  works,  and  in  bank  note  vignettes  particu- 
larly, he  introduced  the  first  improvements  known  in  this 
country.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  his  designs  of  this 
description,  have  assured  me  that  in  the  charm  of  light  and 
shadow  so  peculiarly  his  own,  they  are  very  beautiful. 
At  this  early  period  his  miniatures,  for  which  he  seems 
to  have  had  no  great  fondness,  occupied  most  of  his  time, 
and  Dunlap  esteemed  him  second  only  to  Malbone,  in 
this  elegant  walk  of  Art.  I  have  seen  some  of  his  minia- 
tures, but  they  seem  to  me  to  indicate  less  genius  than 
many  of  his  portraits  and  landscapes. 

Soon  after  he  set  up  for  himself,  Cummings,  who  has 
since  become  so  distinguished,  particularly  for  his  minia- 
tures, applied  to  him  to  receive  him  as  a  pupil.  Inman 
replied:  "Why,  I  have  only  just  escaped  from  pupilage 
myself."  Cummings  was  young  in  Art,  but  was  deter- 
mined to  go  through  a  thorough  course  of  study  ;  and  per- 
ceiving the  rare  abilities  of  Inman,  he  sought  his  familiar 
acquaintance.  He  entered  his  studio,  and  remained  with 
him  seven  years :  part  of  the  time  as  pupil,  and  the  rest 
as  associate.  Cummings  soon  displayed  so  much  merit 
in  miniatures,  that  Inman  from  that  time  forward  aban- 
doned that  branch  of  Art,  seldom  painting  in  that  style, 
except  ior  his  own  amusement  or  the  gratification  of  a 
particular   friend.      He   devoted  himself  principally  to 


HENRV  INMAN.  4| 

portraits,  and  from  their  studio  in  Vesey-street,  some  of 
the  best  works  in  portraiture,  of  all  sizes,  were  sent  out, 
which  have  been  done  in  this  country. 

Inman  painted  occasionally  on  Bristol  Board — in  the 
style  of  the  sketch  of  De  Witt  Clinton — a  piece  which 
now  hangs  in  the  Inman  Gallery,  and  is  said  to  be  a  fair 
sample  of  that  kind  of  work.  He  commenced  some  illus- 
trations of  the  works  of  Washington  Irving,  but  did  not 
continue  them.  Rip  Van  Winkle,  awaking  from  his 
dream,  was  one  of  them.  This  little  composition  is  made 
up  with  great  fidelity,  from  the  '  Sketch  Book.'  "  On 
waking  he  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll,  from  whence 
he  had  first  seen  the  Old  Man  of  the  Glen.  He  rubbed  his 
eyes.  It  was  a  bright,  sunny  morning — the  birds  were 
hopping  and  twittering  among  the  bushes,  and  the  eagle 
was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure  mountain 
breeze.  He  looked  for  his  gun,  but  in  place  of  the 
clean,  well-oiled  fowling-piece,  found  an  old  firelock 
lying  by  him,  the  barrel  encrusted  with  rust,  the  lock 
falling  off,  and  the  stock  worm-eaten." 

.  His  earlier  pieces  of  this  kind,  which  gave  him  reputa- 
tion, were  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  his  pencil  sketches  of  the 
Death  of  the  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  and  of  Leather 
Stocking. 

In  the  year  1825,  "  Inman  joined  the  Association  of 
Artists,  for  drawing — and  on  the  establishment  of  the 
N.  Y.  National  Academy  of  Design,  was  elected  Vice 
President,  which  office  he  filled  until  his  removal  to 
Philadelphia :  within  a  short  distance  of  which  city,  at 
Mount  Holly,  he  purchased  an  estate,  or  farm  and  cot- 
tage, where  he  could  paint,  surrounded  by  his  family, 
with  the  delights  of  rural  scenes  in  summer,  and  the 
comforts  of  his  own  fireside  in  winter." 


42  HEPTRY  INMAN. 

At  this  period,  he  amused  himself  occasionally  in  the 
piaclice  of  Lithography,  then  but  recently  introduced 
into  America.  "  His  reputation  in  the  meanwhile  became 
more  and  more  extended  by  several  compositions  in  oil, 
illustrative  of  popular  works  of  fiction,  which  are  now 
scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  country.  At  length,  in 
1834,  he  returned  to  New- York,  and  opened  his  studio 
once  more,  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  with  the  intention  of 
devoting  his  whole  attention  to  portrait  painting.  Or- 
ders for  pictures  crowded  in  upon  him  so  rapidly,  that 
even  with  his  noted  quickness  and  wonderful  faculty  of 
execution,  it  was  almost  impossible  for  his  pencil  to 
keep  pace  with  the  demands  that  were  made  upon  it. 
The  admiration  excited  by  his  new  heads  gave  a  fresh 
appreciation  to  those  he  had  painted  in  former  years, 
while  present  approval  and  success  warmed  his  canvass 
with  a  richer  glow.  The  frank  and  winning  address  of 
Inman,  united  to  conversational  powers  of  a  rare  order, 
always  gave  him  an  advantage  with  sitters,  which  he 
used  with "  the  happiest  effect.  He  rarely  failed  to  be- 
guile them  by  his  talk  of  the  consciousness  they  were 
sitting  for  a  portrait,  when  he  would  seize  upon  the 
most  natural  and  characteristic  expression  of  the  counte- 
nance from  which  he  had  thus  banished  the  forniality 
and  constraint,  which  so  few  in  such  a  position  can  lay 
aside  by  any  effort  of  their  own." 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  used  to  tell  his  pupils  that  if 
their  portraits  did  not  bear  a  good  expression,  however 
ugly  or  stupid  their  sitters  might  be,  it  was  their  own 
fault;  for  the  Artist  had  the  power  of  stirring  their  feel- 
ings, and  he  must  blame  himself  if  he  did  not  make  an 
animated  and  life-like  picture.  Inman  excelled  here. 
He  seldom  failed  in  a  likeness,  and  yet  his  portraits  al- 


HENRY  INMAN.  43 

most  always  looked  better  than  the  originals.  This 
accounts  in  some  measure  for  his  success  as  a  portrait 
painter,  for  no  American  Artist  has  ever  been  so  suc- 
cessful at  home.  I  have  myself  heard  Inman  say  that, 
in  his  time,  no  man  could  succeed  in  America  except  as 
a  portrait  painter.  "The  taste  of  my  '  customers,'  says 
he,  *is  limited  chiefly  to  portraits.  They  will  not  com- 
mission me  to  execute  Landscapes,  which  would  possess 
a  much  greater  value,  and  win  me  an  infinitely  higher 
fame.  I  cannot  even  get  a  chance  to  paint  a  land- 
scape, unless  I  stick  it  into  a  portrait,  where  I  some- 
times manage  to  crowd  in  a  bit  of  sky,  or  some  old  tree 
or  green  bank.  Why,  I  should  have  starved  long  ago  on 
any  thing  but  portraits.  But  it  is  always  so  in  the  in- 
fancy of  the  Fine  Arts  in  all  countries.  People  are  fond 
of  their  own  portraits  before  they  care  a  fig  for  a  fine 
landscape,  or  a  noble  historical  piece.  You  see  I  have 
not  been  able  to  consult  my  own  inclinations  at  all. 
People  would  have  portraits  and  I  must  have  bread,  and 
I  made  them  pay  for  their  own  phizzes  just  as  much  as  I 
should  have  asked  them  for  a  phiz  of  Nature,  or  a  phiz  of 
History.  They  did  it  willingly,  too,  as  a  general  rule 
and  I  have  many  a  time  received  a  commission  for  $300 
or  $500  for  portraits  and  groups,  when  the  very  same 
persons  would  not  have  hung  up  my  '  Mumble  the  Peg' 
in  their  parlors.  I  tell  you,  sir,  the  business  of  a  few 
generations  of  Artists  in  this  country,  as  in  all  others,  is 
to  prepare  the  way  for  their  successors — for  the  time  will 
come  when  the  rage  for  jwrtraits  in  America  will  give 
way  to  a  higher  and  purer  taste." 

I  hardly  know  of  a  more  lamentable  sight  than  to  see 
a  man  who  has  a  genius,  and  of  necessity  a  taste  for 
landscape  and  historical  painting,  limited  to  portraits. 


J^  HENRY  INMAN. 

Inman's  powers  for  many  years  were  confined  to  a  nar- 
rower range  than  they  should  have  been,  in  Art.  For 
although  he  continually  improved,  and  his  last  portraits  are 
the  best,  yet,  anyone  who  will  compare  his  '  October  Af- 
ternoon* or  '  Rydal  Falls,'  or '  Mumble  the  Peg,'  with  his 
early  landscapes,  will  see  an  infinitely  greater  difference 
than  can  be  found  between  his  early  and  later  portraits. 
What  he  might  not  have  accomplished  in  Landscape  and 
History  by  painting  in  these  departments  for  twenty  years, 
no  one  can  say.  We  only  know  what  he  did  when,  after 
being  nearly  out  of  practice  for  fifteen  years,  he  once  more 
wielded  a  free  pencil  for  '  land  and  sky  and  water.' 

But  let  us  come  to  the  Inman  Gallery,  now  open  at 
the  Rooms  of  the  Art-Union,  where  many  of  Inman's 
best  pictures  are  collected  for  the  first  and  perhaps  for 
the  last  time.  There  is  something  peculiarly  touching 
in  these  relics  of  departed  genius ;  for  each  one  has  its 
history  known  to  some  one  of  the  spectators.  The 
works  of  an  Artist  never  gain  their  real  value  till  the  hand 
that  produced  them  can  work  no  more.  While  the  great 
Masters  were  living,  some  of  their  best  works  brought 
less  than  the  cost  of  their  frames  in  which  they  are  now. 
Andrea  del  Sarto  painted  one  of  his  great  Frescos  for  the 
Monks  of  the  Church  of  the  Annunzziata  at  Florence, 
for  a  sack  of  corn  !  An  Italian  Prince  commissioned  a 
picture  of  him  just  before  he  died,  and  besought  him  to 
execute  it  and  name  his  price.  But  it  was  too  late  ; 
and  when  the  news  of  his  death  went  through  Italy,  his 
pictures  could  not  be  commanded  for  any  price,  for  the 
Master  could  paint  no  more.  The  death  of  Allston  gave 
an  immediate  value  to  his  works  they  had  never  had  be- 
fore ;  and  those  who  have  since  sought  for  his  pictures 
have  told  me  they  could  not  get  them  for  any  price.  Five 


HENRY  INMAN.  4g 

thousand  dollars  one  gentleman  was  willing  to  give  for 
the  '  Rosalie,'  but  the  owner  would  not  let  it  go — it  was 
painted  in  seven  hours.  Probably  the  owners  of  '  Mum- 
ble the  Peg,'  *  October  Afternoon,'  the  *  Portrait  of  Chal- 
mers '  and  others,  would  not  part  with  them  for  five  times 
their  original  cost — some  of  them  would  not  for  any  price. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  once  said  that  'there  are  few 
painters  who  can  pass  the  ordeal  of  criticism,  if  their 
works  are  all  brought  together,' — the  reasons  are  obvious. 
If  the  painter's  merit  ranks  not  above  mediocrity,  he  will 
win  little  admiration,  for  the  mediocre  never  excites  en- 
thusiasm. If  his  fame  is  great,  an  exhibition  draws 
crowds,  who  come  together  with  glowing  expectations 
which  nothing  can  gratify,  and  they  go  away  disappoint- 
ed. But  more  than  all,  there  is  a  sameness  in  the 
works  of  nearly  all  Artists,  which  is  almost  sure  to 
weary  the  spectator,  whose  eye  wanders  round  a  large 
collection,  although  the  same  beauty  which  characterizes 
each  work  there,  called  forth  admiration  when  any  one 
was  seen  alone.  And  another  point  of  perhaps  even 
greater  importance  should  not  be  overlooked.  In  a  Gal- 
lery made  up  of  the  works  of  one  Artist,  there  is  no 
standard  of  comparison  for  common  spectators,  except 
the  standard  of  tJie  very  Artist  criticised.  Hence  in  a 
succession  of  portraits  in  the  same  style  and  of  nearly 
equal  merit,  the  first  one  the  eye  strikes,  represents  its 
class — we  hurry  over  its  fellows.  This  is  also  true  to 
a  limited  extent,  even  of  Landscapes  and  Historical 
pieces — although  the  fields  of  Nature  and  History  are 
so  inimitable,  the  same  master  must  vary  from  himself 
more  widely  than  he  ever  can  in  portraits.  This  is  likely 
to  diminish  the  interest  of  a  large  collection. 

One  of  the  first  things,  perhaps,   that    strikes  the 


^  HENRY  INMAN. 

spectator  who  enters  the  Inman  Gallery,  is  the  general 
brilliancy  of  coloring  throughout  his  pictures.  He  de- 
lighted in  strong  contrasts  of  warm  and  cold  colors. 
All  his  half  tints  are  cold,  for  he  was  not  what  is  gene- 
rally called  a  florid  colorist.  But  the  pink  on  the  cheeks 
and  lips  contrasts  so  strongly  with  the  cold  coloring 
around  them — his  brightest  lights  and  darkest  shades 
are  always  brought  so  closely  together,  that  in  nearly  all 
his  works,  one  sees  what  Inman  used  to  call  '  climaxes,' 
and  which  he  always  delighted  in,  and  produced  with  un- 
common effect.  While  this  characteristic  of  his  pencil, 
which  is  perceptible  in  nearly  all  his  works,  constitutes, 
in  the  estimation  of  many,  one  of  the  principal  beauties 
of  his  portraits,  particularly  his  female  heads,  when  they 
are  seen  alone,  or  hanging  by  the  side  of  other  pictures, 
it  gives  to  a  collection  of  his  portraits  a  somewhat  flushed 
appearance. 

Inman's  characteristics  as  an  Artist,  were  like  his  pe- 
culiarities as  a  man.  He  painted  because  he  loved  his 
art,  and  few  have  had,  in  this  country,  a  higher  or 
purer  ambition  to  elevate  it  in  the  affections  of  our  peo- 
ple. He  carried  a  free  pencil — his  pictures  were  like  his 
conversations — gay,  brilliant,  and  cheerful — more  filled 
with  fancy  than  imagination.  They  all  have  a  social 
home-like  air  about  them, — they  look  as  though  they 
were  just  going  to  speak  to  you.  Perhaps  we  have 
never  had  a  painter  who  could  paint  a  better  eye  than 
Inman — few  so  well.  They  are  all  looking  at  you,  more 
than  you  at  them. 

Inman  has  occupied  in  this  country,  a  position  in  art, 
similar  to  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  in  England ;  and  for 
that  distinguished  Painter,  he  cherished  almost  a  blind 
veneration.      When    he    returned  from  Great  Britain, 


HENRY  INMAN. 


47 


where  he  saw  many  of  the  works  of  the  best  pamters 
of  all  the  European  schools,  Vandyke,  Rembrandt,  Reu- 
bens, Titian,  Reynolds,  and  others,  he  told  several  of 
our  Artists  that  Lawrence's  painting  of  Kemble  as  Ham- 
let, was  the  best  picture  he  saw  while  he  was  gone.  He 
always  spoke  of  Lawrence  with  enthusiasm, — but  his  re- 
semblance to  him  could  not  have  sprung  from  imitation, 
for  he  approached  him  nearer  in  his  early  life,  when  he 
could  hardly  have  seen  any  of  his  works.  It  must  have 
arisen  from  accidental  causes. 

The  spectator  will  also  be  struck  with  the  versatility 
of  Inman's  genius.  Most  Artists  are  distinguished  by 
their  early  and  later  style — by  success  in  one,  or  at  most, 
two  different  walks  of  art.  But  In  man  cannot  be  thus 
characterized.  He  excelled  in  heads,  in  busts,  in  half 
lengths,  in  full  lengths,  in  cabinet  size,  the  size  of  life, 
and  even  in  miniatures — in  children,  and  in  groups — in 
landscapes,  and  in  figures — in  sky,  clouds,  trees  and  wa- 
ter— in  vignette  designs,  and  in  pen  sketches.  There  is 
a  striking  versatility,  also,  in  his  manner  of  treating  sim- 
ilar subjects.  The  portrait  of  his  brother,  (No.  113,)  is 
said  to  have  been  his  first  portrait  in  oil.  Mr.  Rawle's, 
(No.  17,)  was  executed  about  twelve  years  ago,  (I  am 
told,)  and  Dr.  Chalmers,  during  his  visit  to  England. 
They  are  esteemed  to  be  among  his  best  heads — painted 
at  intervals  of  twelve  years  or  more,  and  yet  there  is  a 
striking  dissimilarity  in  the  style  of  the  three.  Macau- 
lay  was  painted  the  same  year  with  Chalmers,  and  one 
could  easily  suppose  they  were  done  by  different  Artists. 

It  being  one  of  the  objects  of  this  work  to  give  as 
complete  a  list  as  possible  of  the  principal  works  of  Ar- 
tists, we  shall  here  transfer  the  catalogue  of  the  Inman 
Gallery,  omitting  No.  64,  a  picture  called  '  Sterne's  Ma- 


^g  HENRY  INMAN. 

ria,'  for  the  reason  that  there  seems  to  be  no  evidence 
that  it  was  ever  painted  by  Inman.  No  one  with  whom 
I  have  conversed,  ever  heard  of  the  picture  before  this 
exhibition.  It  certainly  bears  on  itself  no  evidence  of 
authenticity.  It  is  said  to  have  been  painted  in  boy- 
hood. A  celebrated  Artist  who  has  known  Inman  inti- 
mately for  more  than  twenty  years,  says  he  never  heard 
of '  Sterne's  Maria,'  till  he  saw  it  in  the  Gallery.  The 
*  Rip  Van  Winkle'  was  one  of  his  earliest  original  pic- 
tures; but  no  resemblance  can  be  traced  between  the 
two.  A  due  regard  to  truth  requires  that  such  mistakes 
be  corrected. 


THE  INMAN  GALLERY. 

NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

1.  Portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Jones,    .      Jas.  L.  Graham,  Esq. 

2.  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Inman,        .         .      Mrs.  Inman. 

3.  Portrait  of  Col.  Johnson,      .  .       J.  Richards,  Esq. 

4.  Scene  from  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor,  Ferris  Pell,  Esq. 

"  Hardly  had  Miss  Ashton  dropped  the  pen,  when  the 
door  of  the  apartment  flew  open,  and  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  entered  the  apartment. 

"Lockhard  and  another  domestic,  who  had  in  vain 
attempted  to  oppose  his  passage  through  the  gallery  or 
antechamber,  were  seen  standing  on  the  threshold,  trans- 
fixed with  surprise,  which  was  instantly  communicated  to 
the  whole  party  in  the  state-room.  That  of  Colonel  Doug- 
lass Ashton  was  mingled  with  resentment ;  that  of  Bucklaw, 
with  haughty  and  affected  indifference ;  the  rest,  even  Lady 
Ashton  herself,  showed  signs  of  fear,  and  Lucy  seemed  stif- 
fened to  stone,  by  this  unexpected  apparition — apparition  it 


HENRY  INMAN.  49 

might  well  be  termed,  for  Ravenswood  had  more  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  returned  from  the  dead  than  a  living  visiter. 
*'  He  planted  himself  full  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment, 
opposite  to  the  table  at  which  Lucy  was  seated,  on  whom, 
as  if  she  had  been  alone  in  the  chamber,  he  bent  his  eyes, 
with  a  mingled  expression  of  deep  grief  and  deliberate  indig- 
nation. His  dark-colored  riding-cloak,  displaced  from  one 
shoulder,  hung  around  one  side  of  his  person  in  the  ample 
folds  of  the  Spanish  mantle.  The  rest  of  his  rich  dress 
was  travel-soiled,  and  deranged  by  hard  riding.  He  had  a 
sword  by  his  side  and  pistols  at  his  belt.  His  slouched  hat, 
which  he  had  not  removed  at  entrance,  gave  an  additional 
gloom  to  his  dark  features,  which,  wasted  by  sorrow,  and 
marked  by  the  ghastly  look  communicated  by  long  illness, 
added  to  a  countenance  naturally  somewhat  stern  and  wild, 
a  fierce  and  even  savage  expression.  The  matted  and 
dishevelled  locks  of  hair  which  escaped  from  under  his  hat, 
together  with  his  fixed  and  unmoved  posture,  made  his 
head  more  resemble  that  of  a  marble  bust  than  that  of  a 
living  man.  He  said  not  a  single  word,  and  there  was  a 
deep  silence  in  the  company  for  more  than  two  minutes." 

Tales  of  My  Landlord. 

NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

5.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,      .        .        .       H.  Stebbins,  Esq. 

6.  Portrait  of  President  Duer, .        .      D.  Duer,  Esq. 

7.  Birnam  Wood,    ....     Jas.  Phalen,  Esq. 

Siward.  What  wood  is  this  before  us  ? 

Menteth.  The  wood  of  Birnam. 

Malcolm.  Let  every  soldier  hew  him  down  a  bough 
And  bear't  before  him  ;  thereby  shall  we  shadow 
The  numbers  of  our  host,  and  make  discovery 
Err  in  report  of  us. — Macbeth,  Act  v.  So.  iv. 

8.  Portrait  of  the  late  Col.  Fish,      .  Mrs.  Fish. 

9.  Portrait  of  a  l^ady,      .         .        .  W.  F.  Ladd,  Esq. 
10.  Portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  Law  Library,  Philad. 
IL  Portrait  of  Thomas  Sully,  .        .  T.  Sully,  Esq.,  Phila. 
12.  Family  Portraits  and  Landscape,  T.  Wade,  jr.,  Esq. 

4 


50 


HENRY  INMAN. 


NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

13.  Portrait  of  a  Lady  and  Child,  1839,  Geo.  Buckham,  Esq. 

14.  A  Family  group  of  Children,       .      E.  Parmley,  Esq. 

15.  Portrait  of  Rev.  Dr.  Chalmers,  of 

Scotland,        ....      James  Lenox,  Esq. 

16.  Portrait  of  Wordsworth,      .        .      Professor  H.  Reed,  of 

Philadelphia. 
Wordsworth  recently  assured  one  of  our  distinguished 
countrymen,  that  Inman's  portrait  was  the  most  faithful  and 
satisfactory  of  the  many  which  have  been  taken  of  him. 
It  was  painted  in  the  summer  of  1844,  and  the  friends  of 
the  poet  were  unanimous  in  praise  of  its  excellence. 
"  There  is,"  says  a  critic,  "  a  natural  tone  about  the  flesh, 
and  an  unexaggerated  truth  in  the  expression,  strikingly  in 
contrast  with  the  idealized  imitation  of  nature,  so  usually 
adopted  by  inferior  limners  in  representing  distinguished 
men.  A  physiognomist  of  discrimination  will  be  at  no 
loss  to  trace  in  this  portrait  both  the  weak  and  strong  cha- 
racteristics of  Wordsworth's  poetry." 

17.  Portrait  of  Mr.  Rawle,        .        .      Law  Library,  Philad. 

18.  "  An  October  Afternoon."    .        .      Wm.  P.  Jones,  Esq. 

One  of  the  happiest  pictures  that  ever  came  from  the 
easel  of  Henry  Inman,  is  a  landscape  with  figures  which 
he  has  just  finished,  bearing  the  unpretending  title  of  "  An 
October  Afternoon."  The  subject  of  the  painting  is  an 
"  American  District  School-house  "  on  the  skirt  of  a  wood, 
with  children  just  released  from  their  tasks,  loitering  to 
frolic  on  the  hill-side  ere  they  turn  their  steps  homeward. 
A  blithe  and  buoyant  rout  of  youngsters  they  are,  and  some 
of  them  beautiful  withal,  as  ever  set  philo-progenitiveness  a 
yearning  for  the  honors  of  paternity.  The  surrounding 
scenery,  characteristic  of  the  valley  of  the  Hudson  gene- 
rally, wears  upon  its  features  a  more  especially  family 
resemblance  to  the  landscape  of  Chester  county :  and 
indeed  the  name  of  Ichabod  Crane,  over  the  school -house 
door,  would  seem  to  intimate  that  the  withered  ruler  of 
copy-books  who  is  just  closing  it,  must  have  wielded  the 
birchen  sceptre  of  his  authority  not  far  from  Sleepy  Hollow. 


HENRY  INMAN.  51 

From  the  negro  who  pauses  to  grin  at  the  sport  of  the 
children,  as,  axe  on  shoulder,  he  plods  his  up-hill  way 
homeward,  to  the  dash  of  foam  upon  the  stream  that  hints 
at  the  mill  in  the  hazy  distance ;  from  the  rich  forest  glade, 
chequered  by  the  level  sunbeams,  to  the  delicious  autumnal 
atmosphere  that  softens  the  distant  spire  beneath  the  moun- 
tains— the  whole  picture,  alike  in  composition  and  handling, 
is  full  of  beauty  and  character  : — a  thoroughly  American 
"  October  Afternoon."  [N.  Y.  Evening  Gazette,  Nov.  24, 
1845.] 

This  admirable  picture  is  the  last  that  Mr.  Inman  ever 
finished.  When  he  had  finished  it,  he  remarked  that  he 
had  painted  his  last  picture.  , 

NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

19.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,        .        .  Geo.  Buckham,  Esq. 

20.  Portrait  of  Martin  Van  Buren,        .  J.  L.  Graham,  Esq. 

21.  Portrait  of  a  Child,         .         .        .  W.  P.  Jones,  Esq. 

22.  Portrait  of  Lord  Chan'r  Cottenham,  N.  Y.  Gal.  of  Arts. 

23.  Rydal  Water,         .        .        .        .CM.  Leiipp,  Esq. 

"  Her  only  Pilot  the  soft  breeze,  the  boat 
Lingers ;  but  fancy  is  well  satisfied ; 
With  keen-eyed  Hope,  with  Memory  at  her  side, 
All  that  to  each  is  precious,  as  we  float 
Grently  along  ;  regardless  who  shall  chide 
If  the  Heavens  smile  and  leave  us  free  to  glide. 
Happy  associates  !     Breathing  air  remote 
From  trivial  cares.     But,  Fancy  and  the  Muse, 
Why  have  I  crowded  this  small  bark  with  you 
And  others  of  your  kind.     Ideal  crew  ? 
While  here  sits  one  whose  brightest  owes  its  hues 
To  flesh  and  blood  ;  no  goddess  from  above, 
No  fleeting  spirit,  but  my  own  true  love." — Wordsworth. 

"  Mr.  Wordsworth  pointed  out  the  view,  and  went  with 
me  when  I  made  the  sketch." — Inman's  Letter. 

24.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,         .        .        .  Morris  Robinson,  Esq. 
26.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,         .        .        .  Wm.  H.  Falls.  Esq. 
26.  The  Sleep  of  Death,      .        .        .  R.  Goelet,  Esq. 

"  She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth." 


52 


HENRY  INMAN. 


NO.  STTBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

27.  Portrait  of  Professor  Mapes,    .         .  James  J.  Mapes,  Esq. 

28.  Portrait  of  the  late  General  Morton,  John  L.  Morton,  Esq. 


29.  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 

30.  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 

31.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman, 

32.  Portrait  of  John  L.  Graham  Esq. 

33.  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 

34.  Family  Group, 

35.  Portrait  of  the  late  Bishop  Moore, 

36.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman, 

37.  The  Sisters,    .... 

38.  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 

39.  Portrait  of  Colonel  Crosby,    . 

40.  Portrait  of  a  Lady, 

41.  Potrait  of  Colonel  Webb, 

42.  Crayon  sketch  of  Wm.  T.  Porter, 

43.  Pen  sketch  of  Cha's  F.  Hoffman, 

44.  The  Mask,   .... 

45.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman, 

46.  Portrait  of  the  late  Col.  Rutgers, 

47.  Heads  of  Cherubim, 

48.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,        .        .        .  Mrs.  Fish. 

49.  The  Artist's  Daughter,(unfinished,)  Mrs.  Inman. 

50.  Colossal  crayon  Portrait  of  the  Ar- 

tist,   Mrs.  Inman. 

(Copied  for  a  friend,  by  Mr.  Inman,  from  a  bust  of  himself,  by  Ball 
Hughes.) 

51.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,       .        .  Francis  Hall,  Esq. 

52.  Portrait  of  Dr.  Mott,     .        .        .  New- York  Hospital. 

53.  Portrait  of  the  late  Henry  Eckford,  F.  R.  Tillou,  Esq. 

54.  Rydal  Falls,       .        .        .        .0.  Haggerty,  Esq. 

And  mounts  in  spray  the  skies,  and  thence  again 
Returns  in  an  unceasing  shower,  which  round 
With  its  unemptied  cloud  of  gentle  rain, 
Is  an  eternal  April  to  the  ground, 
Making  it  all  oi\e  emerald  r-r-how  profound 


,  Mrs.  Leacraft. 
,  Mrs.  Christholm. 

Mrs.  Christholm. 

J.  L.  Graham,  Esq. 

A.  D.  Patterson,  Esq. 
,  Mrs.  Hicks. 
.  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq. 
.  B.  C.  Buckstone,  Esq. 

Mrs.  Lawrence. 
,  Campbell,  Esq. 

H.  H.  Stevens,  Esq. 

H.  H.  Stevens,  Esq. 

James  W.  Webb,  Esq. 

W.  T.  Porter,  Esq. 

H.  T.  Tuckerman. 

E.  L.  Carey,  Philad. 

C.  L.  Livingston,  Esq. 
Wm.  B.  Crosby,  Esq. 

Jas.  Lenox,  Esq, 


HENRY  INMAN.  53 

The  gulf !  and  how  the  giant  element 

From  rock  to  rock  leaps  with  delirious  bound  ! — Byron. 

NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

55.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,    .        .        .      E.  Dunigan,  Esq. 

56.  Portrait  of  Jacob  Barker,  Esq.,     .      Jacob  Little,  Esq. 

(Executed  at  one  sitting.) 

57.  Portrait  of  J.  J.  Audubon,   .        .  J.  J.  Audubon,  Esq. 

58.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,     .        .  Wm.  P.  Hallet,  Esq. 

59.  The  News  Boy,  ....  John  Sturgis,  Esq. 

60.  Mumble  the  Peg,         .         .         .  E.  L.  Carey,  Esq. 

(Estate  of  the  late  E.  L.  Carey,  Esq.,  Philadelphia.) 

"  The  whole  thing  is  a  sort  of  pictorial  memorandum  of 
early  school-day  amusements.  The  faces  of  those  boys, 
however,  wherein  "  The  Boor  "  and  "  The  Patrician  "  were 
so  plainly  written  by  nature,  long  haunted  me.  The  game 
at  which  they  were  playing — the  old  accustomed  look  of  the 
distant  school-house — the  whole  scene  of  their  afternoon's 
amusement — how  could  I  account  for  their  being  so  familiar 
tome?" — Hqfman's  story  of  Nick  Ten-Vlyck,  in  "The 
Gift,"  for  1844. 

6L  Portrait  of  the  late  Bishop  White,     Jas.  McMurtrie,  Esq. 
62. -Group  of  three  Ladies,         .        .      H.  Stebbins,  Esq. 
63.  The  Brothers,      ....       Chas.  Edwards,  Esq. 

"  We  in  one  mother's  arms  were  locked, — 
Long  be  her  love  repaid  j 
In  the  same  cradle  we  have  rocked, 
Round  the  same  hearth  we  played. 

Our  boyish  sports  were  all  the  same, 

Each  little  joy  and  woe ; — 
Let  manhood  keep  alive  the  flame, 

Lit  up  80  long  ago  !" — Sprague. 

•  ••••♦  # 

€5.  A  Woodland  Scene,    .        .        .      J.  Q,.  Jones,  Esq. 

(Staten  Island,  autumn  of  1832.)  - 


iH 


HENRY  INMAN. 


NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

66.  Portrait  of  a  Boy  and  Landscape,      P.  M.  Wetmore,  Esq. 

67.  The  Boyhood  of  Washington,     .      C.  G.  Childs,  Esq., 

Philadelphia. 

This  picture,  which  tells  its  own  story,  illustrates  a  tradi- 
tional trait  of  Washington's  schoolboy  days,  when  the 
young  hero  was  ever  deferred  to  by  his  associates  as  the 
umpire  between  angry  combatants. — See  Sparks^  Life  of 
Washington. 

68.  Portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Nelson,  .      Wm.  P.  Hallett,  Esq. 

69.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,       .        .         .       H.  Stebbins.  Esq. 

70.  Portrait  of  T.  Babbington  Macaulay,  E.  L.  Carey,  Esq. 
7L  Portrait  of  a  Child,       .        .        .      John  Inman,  Esq. 

72.  Landscape  after  Morland,     .        .      Mrs.  Inman. 

73.  Trout  fishing  in  Sullivan  Co.,  N.  Y.,  H.  Stebbins,  Esq. 

•'  We  break  from  the  tree-groups,  a  glade  deep  with  grass  j 
The  white  clover's  breath  loads  the  sense  as  we  pass, 
A  sparkle — a  streak — a  broad  glitter  is  seen, 
The  bright  Callikoon  through  its  thickets  of  green ! 
We  rush  to  the  banks — its  sweet  music  we  hear  j 
Its  gush,  dash  and  gurgle  all  blent  to  the  ear. 
No  shadows  are  drawn  by  the  cloud-cover'd  sun, 
We  plunge  in  the  crystal,  our  sport  is  begun. 
Our  line  where  that  ripple  shoots  onward,  we  throw, 
It  sweeps  to  the  foam-spangled  eddy  below. 
A  tremor — a  pull — the  trout  upward  is  thrown, 
He  swings  to  our  basket — the  prize  is  our  own  ! " — Street. 

74.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,  .        .  H.  Stebbins,  Esq. 

75.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .        .  Mrs.  Inrnftn. 

76.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .        .  Francis  Hall,  Esq. 

77.  Portrait  of  an  Infant,         .        .  F.  R.  Tillou,  Esq. 

78.  Portrait  of  Edmund  Simpson,  Esq.  E.  Simpson,  Esq. 

79.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .        .  E.  Simpson,  Esq. 

80.  Portrait  of  Rishop  Delancey,     .  St.  James  Ch.,  Phila. 

81.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    .        .  T.  Dixon,  Esq. 

82.  Portrait  of  the  late  Stephen  Price,  E.  Simpson,  Esq. 


HENRY  INMAN.  ^ 

NO.  SUBJECTS.  POSSESSORS. 

83.  Portrait  of  J.  Haviland,  Esq.      .  J.  Haviland,  Esq, 

84.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .        .  J.  Batelle,  Esq. 

85.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .         .  Geo.  Diier,  Esq. 

86.  Miniature  of  a  Lady,  .         .  R.  H.  J.  Martin,  Esq. 

87.  Portrait  of  M'le  Augusta,     .        .  Wm.  T.  Porter,  Esq. 

88.  Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    .        .  G.  E.  Hoffman,  Esq. 

89.  Portrait  of  Col.  Childs,       .        .  C.  G.  Childs,  Esq. 

90.  Water-colored  Portrait  of  a  Boy,  E.  Parmley,  Esq. 
9L  Water-colored  sketch  of  Jarvis,  the 

late  painter,  .        .         .      Mrs.  Inman. 

92.  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  .         .      Jas.  McMurtrie,  Esq. 

93.  The  Young  Rustic,  .        .      Miss  Julia  Sands. 

94.  The  Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,  John  Inman,  Esq. 

"  Away  to  the  Dismal  Swamp  he  speeds, 
His  path  was  rugged  and  sore, 
Through  tangled  juniper,  beds  of  reeds, 
Through  many  a  fen  where  the  serpent  feeds, 
And  man  never  trod  before." — Moore. 

95.  Portrait  of  Jas.  McMurtrie,  Esq.,  J.  McMurtrie,  Phila. 

96.  Portrait  of  Fitz  Green  Halleck, .  C.  P.  Clinch,  Esq. 

97.  Landscape,        .        .        .        .  C.  G.  Childs,  Esq. 

98.  Pencil  sketch,  .        .        .  Mrs.  T.  S.  Patterson. 

99.  Pen  Etching,             .        .        .  W.  F.  Ladd,  Esq. 
100.  Portrait  of  Horace  Binney,  Esq.,  J.  Cadwallader,  Esq. 
lOL  Cabinet  full  length  of  a  Girl,      .  J.  Nelson,  Esq. 
102.  Rip  Van  Winkle  awaking  from  his 

dream,  .  .        .        .      R.  S.  Crittenden,  Esq. 

"  On  waking,  he  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll  from 
whence  he  had  first  seen  the  Old  Man  of  the  Glen.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes.  It  was  a  bright,  sunny  morning.  The 
birds  were  hopping  and  twittering  among  the  bushes,  and 
the  eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure  moun- 
tain breeze.  He  looked  for  his  gun,  but,  in  place  of  the 
clean,  well-oiled  fowling-piece,  found  an  old  firelock  lying 
by  him,  the  barrel  encrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  falling  off, 
and  the  stock  worm-eaten." — Sketch  Book. 


56 


HENRY  INMAN. 


NO. 
103. 

104. 
105. 
106. 
107. 


SUBJECTS . 

Landscape  and  Figures, 


POSSESSORS. 

Jacob  Little,  Esq. 


P.  M.  Wetmore,  Esq, 
Jas.  McMurtrie,  Esq. 


Cabinet  Groups, 

Landscape, 

India  Ink  sketch  of  De  Witt  Clin- 
ton,         C.  G.  Childs,  Esq. 

108.  Sketch  of  a  Lady,     .         .         .      J.  H.  Carpenter,  Esq. 

109.  A  Sepia  Drawing,      .         .         .      C.  G.  Childs,  Esq. 

110.  Lithographic  Drawing — The  Page,C.  G.  Childs,  Esq. 

111.  The  Brigand,  (a  study,)    .         .      C.  G.  Childs,  Esa. 

112.  Bank  Note  Vignettes,        .         .      C.  Toppan,  Esq. 

113.  Portrait  of  John  Inman,  Esq.     .      John  Inman,  Esq. 

(The  Artist's  first  Portrait  in  oils.) 


114. 

Portrait  of  a  Lady,    . 

John  Nelson,  Esq. 

115. 

Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    . 

J.  R.  Clark,  Esq. 

116. 

Portrait  of  Mrs.  Embury,  . 

D.  Embury,  Esq. 

117. 

Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    . 

D.  Embury,  Esq. 

118. 

Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    . 

John  Nelson,  Esq. 

119. 

Portrait  of  Clara  Fisher,    . 

J.  Inman,  Esq. 

120. 

Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    . 

L.  W.  Kipp,  Esq. 

121. 

Portrait  of  a  Gentleman,    . 

John  Megary,  Esq. 

122. 

Portrait  of  Captain  Mackenzie,  U 

S.  N., 

J.  Bolton,  Esq. 

(The  Head  only  by  Inman.) 

123. 

Portrait  of  C.  J.  IngersoU,  Esq., 

Law  Library,  Phila. 

124. 

Portrait  of  Ex-Mayor  Harper,    . 
(Unfinished.) 

City  of  New-York. 

125. 

Portrait  of  a  Lady,     . 

Hubbard,  Esq., 

Newark. 

126. 

Family  Group, 

J.  L.  O'Sullivan,  Es(] 

This  Gallery  as  all  are  aware  contains  but  a  small 
portion  of  Inman's  Pictures, — indeed,  many  of  his  best 


HENRY  INMAN.  ^ 

works  are  scattered  over  the  country,  and  some  have 
gone  to  other  parts  of  the  world. 

Thomas  McCready  as  Willliam  Tell  was  one  of  his 
first  large  pictures  that  brought  the  Artist  into  notice. 
Full  length  portraits  of  Mr.  Van  Buren,  and  Mr.  Sew- 
ard, were  commissioned  by  the  Municipal  Authorities 
while  those  men  were  Governors  of  the  State,  and 
they  now  hang  in  the  City  Hall.  For  the  Bible  Soci- 
ety he  executed  a  full  length  of  its  President,  Mr. 
Varick.  He  painted  one  of  his  finest  and  largest  groups 
for  Mr.  Henry  Livingston.  It  is  composed  of  six 
children — distributed  with  great  grace  and  beauty.  He 
received  for  it  the  liberal  price  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 
Another  charming  thing  was  done  for  the  same  gentle- 
man— a  full  length  of  a  girl,  with  a  fine  view  of  the 
Catskill,  from  the  piazza  of  the  Livingston  house  at 
Claverack.     This  same  family  sent  one  of  Inman's  good 

pictures  to  Italy  for  Mrs.  T ,  who  had  presented 

them  a  bust  executed  abroad.  The  painting  was  a 
group  of  Mrs.  Livingston,  with  her  daughters  seated 
around  a  table  on  which  the  bust  is  standing, — executed 
with  great  beauty. 

Inman  was  paid  higher  prices  for  his  portraits  than 
have  ever  been  received  by  an  American  Painter  in  this 
country,  and  these  prices  he  never  varied  from.  On  a 
certain  occasion  he  painted  a  group  for  a  gentleman  of 
great  wealth,  who  paid  the  ;^500  somewhat  reluctantly. 
Hearing  that  he  had  manifested  his  dissatisfaction  about 
the  price,  Inman  requested  him  to  send  him  the  picture. 
When  it  came  he  cut  ofT  all  the  legs,  and  sent  it  back 
with  ^200,  making  the  diflference  between  a  half  and 
full  length  group! 

Says  the  Evening  Post : — "  Henry  Inman,  was  not 


58  HENRY  INMAN. 

less  beloved  as  a  friend,  than  admired  as  a  painter.  His 
social  qualities  were  of  the  richest  order,  and  although 
he  seldom  indulged  in  rhyme,  his  conversation  and 
letters  were  often  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  poetry. 
Before  he  sailed  for  England,  while  suffering  from  the 
depression  incident  to  his  health  and  embarrassments, 
he  sent  the  following  little  poem  to  a  friend  :" — 

"  Now  listless  o'er  time's  sullen  tide 

My  bark  of  life  floats  idly  on  ;  '• 

Youth's  incense-laden  breeze  has  died, 
And  passion's  fitful  gusts  are  flown. 

While  sadly  round  her  aimless  course 

Now  lowering  brood  the  mental  skies, 
The  past  but  murmurs  of  remorse, 

And  dim  the  ocean  future  lies. 

And  must  this  be  ?     My  soul,  arouse  ! 

See  through  the  passing  clouds  of  ill 
How  Fame's  proud  pharos  brightly  glows, 

And  gilds  thy  drooping  penant  still. 

Stretch  to  thine  oar,  yon  beam  thy  guide, 
Spread  to  Ambition's  freshening  gale  ; 

Friendship  and  love  are  at  thy  side, 

While  glory's  breathings  swell  thy  sail." 

"The  allusion  to  his  commission  from  Congress," 
says  the  Excelsior,  "  to  execute  a  picture  for  the  Capitol, 
in  the  last  stanza  of  Inman's  verses,  makes  it,  with  those 
who  know  all  the  circumstances,  one  of  the  saddest  things 
that  poet  ever  penned !  For  after  Inman's  sanguine  dis- 
position had  involved  him  irretrievably  in  the  speculating 
epidemic  of  ^36,  and  the  subsequent  commercial  revul- 
sion overwhelmed  him  with  a  hopeless  load  of  debt ;  and 
when  the  persuasions  of  the  friends  who  saw  that  his 


HENRY  INMAN.  59 

health  was  failing  under  hopeless  toil,  could  not  induce 
him  to  avail  himself  of  the  Bankrupt  Act,  he  thus  eager- 
ly, when  invited  to  connect  his  name  with  his  country's 
history  in  the  Capitol,  catches  at  the  only  gleam  of  hope- 
ful aspiration  that  shines  forth  to  cheer  his  Future, 

"  Stretch  to  thine  oar,  yon  beam  thy  guide. '^ 

The  public  know  the  rest — or  rather,  they  know  that 
a  portion  of  the  money  was  advanced  for  that  picture, 
and  that  nothing  but  the  "  study"  of  it  was  ever  put  upon 
canvass  by  the  artist.  It  is  only  since  his  death  that 
they  know  that  Inman  was  even  then  a  dying  man — a 
man  stricken  with  mortal  disease,  a  disease  that  permit- 
ted him  to  work  only  a  few  hours  a  day,  and  by  no 
means  each  successive  day — work  for  a  large  family  with 
no  resources  but  his  genius.  The  murmurs  of  the  public 
at  his  deferred  engagement  with  them  could  not  but 
reach  his  ears.  It  was  said  that  he  never  intended  to 
complete  the  picture.  The  writer  of  this  heard  Inman 
himself  refer  to  the  subject  with  a  sad  but  forgiving  spirit. 
It  was  never  his  wont  to  speak  harshly  of  others,  nor  did 
he  then.  He  seemed  to  regard  the  slander  only  as  a 
proof  that  his  character  had  become  seriously  affected  by 
his  unfulfilled  contract  with  the  Government,  and  that 
men  hesitated  no  longer  to  tamper  with  his  good  name, 

*  For  Folly  loves  the  martyrdom  of  Fame !' 

That  '  beam'  which  was  to  be  his  *  guide'  was 
henceforth  a  shaft  of  cruel  light,  for  ever  piercing  his  eye- 
lids and  quivering  in  his  very  brain.  For  he  knew  that 
he  must  die  before  he  could  execute  that  picture,  and  the 
star  which  had  cheered  him  on,  was  now  changed  to  a 


^  HENRY  INMAN. 

fiery  scourge,  which  was  goading  him  to  his  grave.     In 
his  visit  to  England  he  had  looked  for  sufficient  renewal 
of  health  to  finish  there  his  great  picture.     There  Words- 
worth, to  an  eminent  countryman,  had  pronounced  him 
the  most  decided  man  of  genius  he  had  ever  seen  from 
America ;  a  new  and  European  fame  seemed  dawning 
upon  him,  with  patronage  in  portrait  painting  to  support 
his  family  here,  and  leisure  to  finish  his  great  picture 
under  the  best  advantages  for  a  great  work  of  art.    Once 
more  his  sanguine  spirit  saw  a  bright  and  proud  future 
widening   before   it.      But  the  tone   of  his  letters   to 
his  friends  changed  ;  his  disorder  again  showed  itself  in 
an  aggravated  form  ;  and  neither  he  in  Europe,  nor  his 
family  in  America,  could  wait  for  that  ripening  recogni- 
tion of  his  genius  which  surely  awaited  him  in  England. 
He  returned  to  die  among  his  friends.     Over  his  easel, 
indeed, — for  while  still  working  for  subsistence,  at  broken 
intervals,  he  executed  some  of  the  best  things  he  ever 
did,  within   the  last  year — hope  would  again,  at  times, 
cheei  him  as  of  old :  for  when  the  painting  mood  was 
upon  him,  there  was  nothing  that  Inman  would   not 
promise  himself;  and  so  miraculously  rapid  was  he  in  the 
exercise  of  his  art  at  such  happy  moments,  that  even  a 
stranger  might  prophesy  extravagantly  from  the  brief  dis- 
play of  such  vigorous  powers.     The  times  favorable  for 
work,  however,  were  only  those  in  which  his  disorder 
would  permit  him  to  take  exercise.     He  must  forego  the 
exercise,  or  he  could  not  labor  for  his  family.     Why 
should  he  not  forego  that  which  could   only  prolong, 
without  lightening  a  life,  of  whose  approaching  termi- 
nation he  was  already  but  too  well  aware  ?     He  now 
ceased  to  speak  of  his  great  picture.     His  talk  was  of 
dissolution,  and  the  world  to  come— of  Nature,  of  Art, 


HENRY  INMAN.  g| 

of  the  affairs  of  his  friends,  instead  of  his  own.  And, 
thus  discoursing,  apparently  cheerful  till  the  last,  his  gal- 
lant heart,  when  it  had  ceased  to  beat,  was  found  dis- 
tended to  twice  the  natural  size ;  and  the  disease  was 
doubtless  aggravated,  as  one  of  his  medical  examiners 
declared,  by  aching  thoughts  and  suffering  suppressed. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  with  a  man  so  sensitive,  who 
had  been  forced  to  feel  that  the  highest  stamp  upon  his 
fame  threatened,  from  untoward  circumstances,  to  prove 
a  blot  upon  his  reputation  ? 

Yet  his  funeral !  Never — never  have  we  witnessed 
a  more  striking  scene  than  that  of  the  long  and  compact 
procession,  comprising  some  of  the  most  prominent  per- 
sons both  from  this  and  other  cities,  following  the  bier 
of  the  artist  on  foot,  for  two  long  miles,  on  a  cold  winter 
evening.  No  splendid  pageant  to  the  memory  of  the 
eminent  painter  could  have  been  so  balmful  to  his  hurt 
mind  as  that  unerring  tribute  to  his  acknowledged  worth 
as  a  man !  And  if  his  spirit  still  hovered  near  till  the 
earth  closed  over  his  mortal  remains,  it  must  have  soared 
away  at  last  content  that  his  name  and  his  fame  would 
be  alike  shielded  and  cherished  by  his  mourning  coun- 
trymen." 

There  has  seldom  been  a  nobler  display  of  kind  and 
generous  feeling  among  our  citizens,  than  was  manifest- 
ed at  the  Globe  Hotel,  a  few  evenings  after  Inman's 
death.  A  notice  was  published  in  the  city  journals,  in- 
viting the  friends  of  the  late  Artist  to  assemble  at  thai 
place.  The  high  character,  and  the  number  of  the  as- 
sembly, bespoke  the  feeling  his  death  had  awakened. 
Mr.  Cummings  was  called  to  preside  over  the  meeting, 
and  all  its  proceedings  were  characterized  by  the  utmost 
dignity  and  propriety.      It  was   resolved   that  all  the 


^  HENRY  INMAN. 

works  of  the  late  Artist,  which  could  be  conveniently 
collected,  should  be  brought  together,  and  an  exhibition 
made  for  the  benefit  of  the  family. 

The  next  few  days  furnished  the  most  convincing 
proofs  of  the  sincerity  of  the  professions  that  had  been 
made  of  respect  for  the  citizen  they  lamented,  and  ad- 
miration for  the  Artist  they  had  lost.  The  day  the  ex- 
hibition was  to  begin  was  anxiously  waited  for,  and 
when  the  doors  were  at  last  thrown  open,  the  Gallery 
was  crowded.  Thousands  have  already  gone,  and  thou- 
sands more  will  yet  go  to  pay  their  tribute  of  admiration 
to  departed  genius.  To  those  who  loved  Inman,  this 
is  a  grateful  spectacle — to  those  who  love  Art,  no  sight 
can  be  more  cheering — for  it  bespeaks  a  general  appre- 
ciation of  the  high  claims  of  Art  and  Artists  to  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  nation,  and  a  consciousness  too  that  over 
the  early  death  of  Inman  the  country  has  cause  to  mourn. 

The  Artist's  dead  :  the  Gifted's  task  is  ended, 
The  brush  and  canvass  lie  all  useless  now  : 

Life's  picture's  finished — light  and  shade  are  blended 
By  the  Great  Master  to  whom  all  must  bow. 


HENRY  INMAN.  QQ 


P.  S.  "  Mumble  the  Peg." 

This  last '  Proof  is  received  in  time  to  give  us  an  op- 
portunity of  acknowledging  the  courtesy  of  Messrs.  Carey 
and  Hart,  of  Philadelphia,  in  offering  us  the  use  of  their 
exquisite  engraving  of  Inman's  '  Mumble  the  Peg,'  for 
the  illustration  of  this  sketch.  It  originally  appeared  in 
the  '  Gift,'  and  has  been  esteemed  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful illuminations  of  that  elegant  Annual.  The  loan  of 
this  plate  is  only  one  of  the  many  kind  offices  Authors 
have  experienced  from  those  gentlemanly  Publishers. 

The  mention  of  that  House  brings  freshly  to  our  re- 
collection the  name  and  the  virtues  of  the  lamented 
Carey.  Never  have  Arts  and  Artists  had,  or  lost  a  better 
friend.  In  his  Gallery  are  many  of  the  choicest  w^orks 
of  American  painters  and  sculptors.  Among  others  is 
'  Mumble  the  Peg,'  which  was  commissioned  of  Inman 
a  few  years  ago,  and  engraved  for  Mr.  Carey's  favorite 
Annual.  And  although  the  peculiar  province  of  this 
work  is  to  speak  of  Artists,  yet  we  cannot  omit  this 
short  tribute  of  affection  to  one  who  appreciated  them 
so  well. 

Few  countries  have  ever  had  so  gifted  and  generous 
a  friend  of  Art  in  the  infancy  of  their  taste.  We  never 
heard  of  an  appeal  for  Art  made  to  him  in  vain ;  nor 
do  we  know  of  any  one  who  has  devoted  so  large  a  portion 
of  his  income  to  the  Fine  Arts.  There  may  possibly 
be  some  who  have  expended  more,  but  we  know  of  no  one 
who  has  expended  more  wisely  or  generously.  There 
are  few  works  in  his  Gallery  which  were  not  commis- 
sioned at  the  very  time  the  Artists  most  needed  his  aid 


64 


HENRY  INMAN. 


— and  the  superior  style  in  which  they  are  executed, 
shows  the  spirit  which  inspired  their  Authors. 

I  happened  to  be  in  the  studio  of  Powers,  when  he 
was  giving  his  last  touches  to  his  Proserpine.  "  This," 
said  the  Sculptor,  "  is  for  Edward  L.  Cary,  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  I  never  felt  more  anxious  to  execute  a  commis- 
sion well.  He  is  one  of  the  most  enlightened  and  gifted 
men  in  our  country,  and  there  are  few  men  in  any  coun- 
try of  more  mature  and  refined  taste  " 


^  E  s  ¥ 


Frew  a/  FauUmg  hy  hcLwrence/ 


BENJAMIN    WEST. 


« 


A   GALAXY  of  glorious  names  had  passed  for  ever  by, 
Before  thine  infant  eyelids  ope'd  upon  the  new  world  sky  } 
Names  that  will  echo  ever,  through  the  dim  halls  of  time — 
Portrayers  of  the  beautiful,  the  sainted,  the  sublime. 

Italia's  Raphael  and  Titian,  da  Vinci  and  Guido, 
With  wild  Salvator  Rosa,  and  Michael  Angelo; 
Carracci  and  Correggio,  whose  works  will  ever  stand, 
Bright  monuments  of  glory,  to  grace  a  fallen  land. 

Dominichino  and  del  Sarto,  (with  many  a  lesser  name 
That  never  left  a  foot-print  upon  the  steeps  of  fame,) 
Have  made  thy  hills  and  valleys,  thy  temples  old  enshrined, 
The  Milky-way  of  genius,  the  Mecca  of  the  mind  ! 

Velasquez  and  Murillo,  the  pride  of  haughty  Spain, 
And  Holland's  gifted  Reubens,  we  ne'er  shall  see  again ; 
Vandyk  and  famous  Rembrant,  with  the  grotesque  Teniers, 
Have  link'd  unto  the  present  the  past's  uncounted  years. 

France,  the  fair  land  of  lilies,  to  the  Poussins  gave  birth, 
And  to  a  name  unrivalled,  unequalled  on  the  earth — 
Who  ever  proudly  triumphed,  mid  sorrow  and  in  pain — 
'T  was  he  who  mirror'd  nature,  the  gifted  Claude  Lorraine. 

And  Hogarth  toiled  in  England,  neglected  many  a  year. 
While  on  his  graphic  canvas  dropp'd  Poverty's  dim  tear ; 
And  then,  worn  out  with  suffering,  he  found  repose  in  death. 
Beneath  an  humble  tomb-stone  Art's  Druid  slumbereth. 

The  western  world  then  yielded  a  neophyte  for  fame  : 
From  Pennsylvania's  forests  a  Quaker  pilgrim  came  ; 
The  touches  of  his  pencil  gave  birth  to  forms  sublime — 
The  favorite  of  England — the  Giotto  of  his  time. 

Caleb  Lyon  of  Lyonsdale. 
New-York,  March  3, 1846. 


^  6 


His  (West's)  power  at  his  advanced  age  is  beyond  all  example  ;  and  my 
visit  to  the  continent  has  given  me  a  still  higher  opinion  of  his  great  talents, 
and  knowledge  of  his  Art,  than  I  before  had,  and  this  from  comparison  with 
the  works  of  the  great  masters. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's  Letter  to  Mr.  Lysons,  from  Rome. 


When   we  consider  the  determined  perseverance  he  (West)  showed  to 

persist  in  the  high  walk  he  had  at  first  chosen,  though  there  was  not  a  grain 

of  taste  for  it  in  the  country  at  that  time,  it  does  him  the  highest  honor,  and  / 

am  ashamed  of  the  recent  ungrateful  neglect  of  my  countrymen — it  surprised 

and  grieved  me. 

Letter  of  Sir  George  Beaumont  to  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence. 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


There  have  been  more  volumes  written  about  this 
great  Painter  in  England,  than  there  have  been  pages 
devoted  to  him  in  the  land  of  his  birth.  This  fact,  how- 
ever tame  it  may  seem  to  us  now,  will  one  day  make  a 
chapter  in  the  '  Curiosities  of  Art,'  when  her  D'Israeli 
writes  her  history.  I  have  been  advised  by  almost  every 
body  but  Artists  to  pass  over  in  silence  West,  and  Trum- 
bull, and  Stuart.  I  am  told  that  sketches  of  these  old 
Painters  will  carry  with  them  little  interest  for  general 
readers,  and  hang  like  a  dead  weight  upon  a  series  which 
would  otherwise  be  buoyed  up  with  the  names  of  living 
men.  Well,  let  it  be  so.  I  had  rather  my  design  in 
this  work  should  never  be  completed,  than  to  leave  for 
coming  times  a  History  of  the  '  Artists  of  America  '  in 
which  the  Restorer  of  Historical  Painting  in  England — 
the  man  who  painted  a  Battle  Piece  which  Goethe  gazed 
on  with  astonishment  and  delight,  and  the  man  whose 
portrait  of  Washington  hangs  over  our  fireside  altars,  can 
have  no  place.  1  must  then  call  these  sketches  by 
another  name — for  if  the  Fathers  of  Painting  in  this 
country  are  not  '  Artists  of  America,'  I  know  not  who 
are. 

I  have  been  taught  from  my  childhood  to  venerate 
these  men.  Among  my  earliest  recollections  are  Stu- 
art's portraitof  Washington,  with  its  benign  and  earnest 
expression,  and  I  remember  there  was  so  much  of  the  pa- 


gg  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

ternal  in  it,  it  looked  like  a  father,  and  there  was  so  much 
venerableness  and  grandeur  and  dignity,  it  looked  like 
the  Father  of  a  Nation.  And  I  saw  the  '  Declaration  of 
Independence,'  and  those  long  rows  of  gray  heads,  and 
those  old  costumes,  and  Hancock  in  the  chair,  and 
Franklin  standing  by  him.  And  I  never  read  of  those 
stormy  days,  nor  of  those  honest,  earnest,  iron  men,  with- 
out thinking  of  Trumbull,  and  the  mysteries  of  his  Art. 
And  I  remember  well  how  old  people  talked  about  the 
great  picture  of  '  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse.'  I  saw  some 
print  of  it  about  that  time,  and  when  I  heard  the  ven- 
erable old  parish  minister  speak  of  that  '  Apocalyptic 
vision,'  I  never  forgot  '  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse.' 

And  so  at  last  these  old  Painters  became  to  me  ven- 
erable personages — men  whose  names  made  me  think  of 
Plymouth  Rock,  which  always  brought  back  the  wild 
vision  of  the  Mayflower  rocking  in  Massachusetts  Bay, 
her  icy  deck  covered  with  old  men,  and  females,  and 
^y6ung  children,  all  kneeling  in  solemn  covenant  with 
God.  Indeed,  there  was  something  more  to  me  in  these 
painters,  than  Pilgrims — they  were  mysterious  men,  for 
they  seemed  to  have  a  kind  of  incomprehensible  relation 
with  the  old  Heroes  of  Revolutionary  Senates  and  Bat- 
tle-fields. This  impression  was  not  done  away  with 
even  after  Trumbull  and  Stuart  were  guests  at  our  house, 
and  I  sat  on  their  knee.  I  am  quite  willing  that  portion 
of  the  world  which  knows  no  better,  should  simper  a 
little  to  hear  me  talk  so  about  Pilgrims  and  Painters, — 
but  the  day  is  coming  as  surely  as  another  eclipse  of  the 
sun,  when  the  men  of  this  country  will  pile  up  everlast- 
ing bronze  to  our  early  Painters,  as  they  have  already 
piled  up  Massachusetts  granite  to  the  Pilgrims,  and  God 
will  give  us  a  Webster  to  speak  when  the  foundation  is 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  gQT 

laid.  So  it  is  evident  enough  I  cannot  talk  about  living 
Artists  till  I  have  spoken  of  the  dead,  who  have  rested 
from  their  labours. 


Benjamin  West  was  born  in  Chester  county,  Penn- 
sylvania, Oct.  10,  in  the  year  1738,  just  ten  years  after 
Smybert  landed  in  America.  His  father  was  born  in 
England,  where  his  ancestors  had  distinguished  them- 
selves. Col.  James  West  had  done  some  fighting  on  the 
right  side  with  John  Hampden,  and  Cunningham  carries 
the  painter's  ancestry  back  to  Lord  Delaware,  renowned 
in  the  wars  of  Edward  the  Third  and  the  Black  Prince. 
But  I  believe  West  himself  was  always  willing  to  stop 
when  he  got  to  John  Hampden,  and  he  was  wise  for  do- 
ing it,  for  the  man  who  traces  back  his  ancestry  too  far 
is  in  infinite  danger  of  stumbling  over  both  kings  and 
beggars.  Cunningham  relates  several  prodigies  that  at- 
tended the  birth  of  Benjamin,  but  we  fancy  they  are 
somewhat  apocryphal.  The  only  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances I  have  been  able  to  learn  are,  that  he  was  the 
youngest  of  nine  children,  and  that  he  went  with  all  due 
gravity  becoming  a  Quaker  baby,  through  the  mysteries 
of  swaddling  clothes,  teeth  cutting  and  short  clothes,  till 
he  came  to  his  first  '  pants  and  jacket,'  that  memorable 
day  of  boyhood. 

When  Benjamin  was  seven  years  old  he  "  was  placed 
with  a  fly-trap  in  his  hand  to  watch  the  sleeping  infant 
of  his  eldest  sister."  "  As  he  sat  by  the  cradle  the  child 
smiled  in  sleep — he  was  struck  with  its  beauty,  and 
seeking  some  paper,  drew  its  portrait  in  red  and  black 


70 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


ink.  His  mother  returned,  and  snatching  the  paper, 
which  he  sought  to  conceal,  exclaimed  to  her  daughter, 
'  I  declare,  he  has  made  a  likeness  of  little  Sally !'  She 
took  him  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him  fondly."  His  sober 
parents  encouraged  this  new  taste,  and  in  no  great  space 
of  time  the  quiet  Quaker  home  was  filled  with  works  of 
art,  such  as  they  were.  "When  he  was  some  eight 
years  old,  a  party  of  roaming  Indians  paid  their  summer 
visit  to  Springfield,  and  were  much  "pleased  with  the  rude 
sketches  which  the  boy  had  made  of  birds  and  fruits  and 
flowers,  for  in  such  drawings  many  of  the  wild  Ameri- 
cans (Indians,  we  suppose  Mr.  Cunningham  means  to 
say)  have  both  taste  and  skill.  They  showed  him  some 
of  their  own  workmanship,  and  taught  him  how  to  pre- 
pare the  red  and  yellow  colours  with  which  they  stained 
their  weapons.     They  taught  him  archery  too." 

Lewis,  his  American  biographer,  says  his  colours 
were  "  charcoal  and  chalk  mixed  with  the  juice  of  ber- 
ries," and  he  laid  them  on  with  brushes  made  of  the  hair 
of  a  cat  drawn  through  a  goose  quill.  He  got  "  from  the  , 
Mohawk  or  Delaware  Indians  red  and  yellow  earths  used 
by  them  at  their  toilets  ;  Mrs.  West's  indigo  pot  supplied 
blue,  and  the  urchin  thus  gained  possession  of  those 
primitive  colours  he  afterwards  knew  to  be  the  materials 
whose  combined  minglings,  in  their  various  gradations, 
gave  all  the  tints  of  the  rainbow."  It  is  said  that  the 
cat  in  this  process  lost  so  much  of  her  fur,  that  a  general 
solicitude  was  felt  for  the  poor  creature  throughout  the 
family,  until  Benjamin  honestly  told  them  that  the  fur  had 
not  fallen  by  disease  or  age,  but  had  been  picked  off  for 
artistic  purposes.  It  was  then  agreed  that  Tabby  should 
have  a  respite,  while  the  young  painter  drew  from  the 
eeese. 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  «M 

A  neighbor  of  the  Wests,  General  Wayne's  father, 
"  took  a  liking,"  says  Dunlap,  "  to  six  heads  in  chalk 
drawn  by  him  (Benjamin),  and  presented  him  with  six 
dollars  for  them.  These  chalk  productions  were  among 
Mr.  West's  first  performances,  and  he  was  so  much 
pleased  with  their  producing  so  large  a  price,  as  to  be 
thereby  chiefly  induced  to  adopt  for  his  means  of  sup- 
port the  profession  T)f  a  painter.  This  anecdote  Mr. 
West  told  me  in  London  1785."  Such  was  the  com- 
mencement of  Benjamin  West's  drawing. 

A  Mr.  Pennington,  a  merchant  of  Philadelphia, 
made  a  visit  to  Chester  county,  where  he  saw  some  of 
the  sketches  of  the  boy-artist,  and  when  he  returned 
home  he  sent  him  a  present  worth  more  to  him  than  a 
kingdom — 'a  box  of  paints  and  brushes  and  several 
pieces  of  canvas  prepared,  and  six  engravings  by  Gre- 
veling.'  These  were  the  first  works  or  implements  of 
Art  the  boy  had  ever  seen.  Cunningham  and  Gait  tell 
us  how  he  used  them — "  West  placed  the  box  on  a  chair 
at  his  bed-side,  and  he  was  unable  to  sleep.  He  rose 
with  the  dawn,  carried  his  canvas  and  colours  to  the 
garret,  hung  up  the  engravings,  prepared  a  palette,  and 
commenced  copying.  So  completely  was  he  under  the 
control  of  this  species  of  enchantment  that  he  absented 
himself  from  school,  laboured  secretly  and  incessantly  for 
several  days,  when  the  anxious  inquiries  of  the  school- 
master introduced  his  mother  to  his  studio  with  no  plea- 
sure in  her  looks, — but  her  anger  subsided  as  she  looked 
upon  his  performance.  He  had  avoided  copyism,  and 
made  a  picture  composed  from  two  of  the  engravings, 
telling  a  new  story  and  coloured  with  a  skill  and  effect 
which  was  in  her  sight  surprising.  '  She  kissed  him,'  says 
Gait,  who  had  the  story  from  the  Artist,  '  with  trans- 


72  •  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

ports  of  affection,  and  assured  him  that  she  would  not 
only  intercede  with  his  father  to  pardon  him  for  having 
absented  himself  from  school,  but  would  go  herself  to 
the  master  and  beg  that  he  might  not  be  punished.' 
Sixty-seven  years  afterward,  the  writer  of  these  Memoirs 
had  the  gratification  to  see  this  piece  in  the  same  room 
with  the  sublime  painting  of  '  Christ  Rejected,'  on  which 
occasion  the  Painter  declared  to  him  that  there  were 
inventive  touches  of  art  in  his  first  and  juvenile  essay, 
which,  with  all  his  subsequent  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence, he  had  not  been  able  to  surpass."  Two  of  these 
sketches  are  still  to  be  seen  in  Philadelphia, 

Pennington  took  West  to  Philadelphia  in  his  ninth 
year,  where  he  executed  a  landscape  of  the  Delaware, 
which  so  much  delighted  Williams,  a  portrait  painter, 
that  he  warmly  encouraged  him  to  prosecute  his  studies. 
West's  education  had  hitherto  been  chiefly  confined  to 
the  simple  rudiments  of  learning — he  had  read  nothing 
but  the  Bible  History.  Williams  may  have  painted  good 
or  bad  portraits,  but  he  did  one  thing  worth  remember- 
ing. He  put  into  West's  hands  two  books,  "  Du  Fres- 
noy  and  Richardson,  with  an  invitation  to  call  whenever 
he  pleased  and  see  his  pictures.  The  books  and  the 
pictures  made  the  love  of  Art  overcome  all  other  feelings, 
and  he  returned  home  resolved  to  become  a  painter. 
Williams's  pictures,  which  were  "  the  first  specimens  of 
true  Art  the  boy  had  seen,  affected  West  so  much  that 
he  burst  into  tears." 

How  long  he  remained  in  Philadelphia  this  first  visit, 
I  do  not  know,  ^-'story  well  authenticated  is  told  by 
all  his  biographerfs,  which  goes  to  show  that  Benjamin 
was  quite  an  ambitious  little  fellow  for  a  Quaker.  "  One 
of  his  school-fellows  allured  him  on  a  half-holiday  from 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


73 


trap  and  ball,  by  promising  him  a  ride  to  a  neighboring 
plantation.  '  Here  is  the  horse,  bridled  and  saddled,'  said 
his  friend,  '  so  come,  get  up  behind  me.'  '  Behind  you,' 
said  Benjamin  ;  '  I  will  ride  behind  nobody.'  *  Oh  ! 
very  well,'  replied  the  other,  '  I  will  ride  behind  you ; 
so  mount.'  He  mounted  accordingly,  and  away  they 
rode.  '  This  is  the  last  ride  I  shall  have,'  said  his  com- 
panion, '  for  some  time.  To-morrow  I  am  to  be  appren- 
ticed to  a  tailor.'  'A  tailor!'  exclaimed  West;  'you 
will  surely  never  be  a  tailor.'  '  Indeed,  but  I  shall,' 
replied  the  other ;  'it  is  a  good  trade.  What  do  you 
intend  to  be,  Benjamin  ?'  '  A  painter.'  '  A  painter ! 
What  sort  of  a  trade  is  a  painter  ?  I  never  heard  of  it 
before.'  '  A  painter,'  said  this  humble  son  of  a  Philadel- 
phia Quaker,  '  is  the  companion  of  kings  and  emperors.' 
'Xou  are  surely  mad,'  said  the  embryo  tailor;  'there 
are  neither  kings  nor  emperors  in  America.'  '  Aye,  but 
there  are  plenty  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  And  do 
you  really  intend  to  be  a  tailor  ?'  *  Indeed  I  do ;  there 
is  nothing  surer.'  '  Then  you  may  ride  alone,'  said  the 
future  companion  of  kings  and  emperors,  leaping  down ; 
*  I  will  not  ride  with  one  willing  to  be  a  tailor  !'  This 
incident,  it  is  said,  together  with  his  skill  in  drawings 
which  now  began  to  be  talked  of,  drove  the  schoolboys 
of  Springfield  to  walls  and  boards,  with  chalk  and  ochre.^ 
This  was  only  a  temporary  enthusiasm,  and  soon  sub- 
sided; yet  many  of  these  drawings.  West  afterwards 
said,  were  worthy  of  the  students  of  a  regular  academy." 
A  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Flower,  who  lived  in  a 
neighboring  town,  happening  to  see  some  of  West's  first 
essays  in  Art,  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  boy,  that  he 
obtained  permission  from  his  father  to  take  him  on  a 
visit  to  his  house,     "  A  young  English  lady,"  says  Cun- 


74  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

ningham,  "  was  governess  to  his  daughter.  She  was 
well  acquainted  with  Art,  and  was  also  intimate  with  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Poets,  and  loved  to  point  out  to  the 
young  Artist  the  most  picturesque  passages.  He  had 
never  before  heard  of  Greece  or  of  Rome,  or  of  the  he- 
roes, philosophers,  poets,  painters  and  historians,  whom 
they  had  produced,  and  he  listened  while  the  lady  spoke 
of  them,  with  an  enthusiasm  which,  after  an  experience 
of  near  seventy  years  in  the  world,  he  loved  to  live  over 
again." 

His  fame  soon  spread  to  Lancaster,  a  neighboring 
village,  where  he  was  invited  by  a  gentleman  by  the 
name  of  Ross,  to  paint  the  portrait  of  his  lady,  who  was 
*  eminently  beautiful.'  He  executed  his  task  so  well,  he 
was  soon  applied  to  from  all  quarters  of  the  village.  But 
of  all  the  characters  who  had  any  thing  to  do  with  West's 
early  career  as  an  Artist,  we  have  always  been  most  in- 
terested in  the  Lancaster  gunsmith,  who  commissioned 
him  to  paint  the  '  Death  of  Socrates.'  The  Artist  knew 
none  too  much  about  the  personage  he  was  going  to 
paint,  and  the  gunsmith  read  to  him  a  few  passages 
which  spoke  about  Hemlock  and  the  Philosopher.  Once 
possessed  of  the  idea,  he  began  to  work  it  out  on  can- 
vas. The  gunsmith  gave  him  one  of  his  men  to  stand 
for  a  model,  and  in  due  lime  this  first  Historical  Picture 
of  Benjamin  West  was  finished.  All  we  know  of  this 
Lancaster  gunsmith  is,  that  his  name  was  Henry !  Pity 
we  can  say  no  more  of  him. 

Dr.  Smith,  Provost  of  the  College  at  Philadelphia, 
saw  young  West  at  Lancaster,  in  his  fifteenth  year,  and 
•perceiving  that  his  education  was  being  neglected,  pro- 
posed to  his  father  to  send  his  son  to  the  Capital,  where 
the  worthy  and  learned  Provost  kindly  proposed  to  direct 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  5|J 

nis  Studies.  But  before  this  Quaker  father  gave  up  his 
boj  to  the '  worldly  occupation  of  painting,'  he  felt  it  to  be 
his  duty  to  lay  the  matter  before  the  Society  of  which  he 
was  a  member.  The  Society  assembled  and  waited  for 
the  moving  of  the  Spirit.  It  was  a  serious  question  with 
those  serious  men  and  women,  whether  they  could  give 
their  consent  that  one  of  their  own  members  should  wan- 
der from  the  fold  to  pursue  an  Art  which  '  had  hitherto 
been  employed  to  embellish  life,  to  preserve  voluptuous 
images,  and  add  to  the  sensual  gratifications  of  man.' 

There  is  not  so  much  to  provoke  a  smile  in  this  busi- 
ness as  some  persons  may  suppose.  People  that  pray 
over  such  matters  are  not  always  the  fools  the  world  in 
our  times  takes  them  for.  A  great  many  men  have 
laughed  at  the  Puritans,  Cromwellians,  or  Round-heads, 
as  you  please,  but  no  man  ever  laughed  at  them  after 
meeting  them  in  the  halls  of  debate,  or  crossing  swords 
with  them  on  the  field  of  battle. 

"  The  spirit  of  speech  first  descended  on  one  John 
Williamson — '  To  John  West  and  Sarah  Persons,'  said 
this  Western  Luminary,  *  a  man-child  hath  been  born, 
on  whom  God  hath  conferred  some  remarkable  gifts  of 
mind  ;  and  you  have  all  heard  that,  by  something  amount- 
ing to  inspiration,  the  youth  has  been  induced  to  study 
the  art  of  painting.  It  is  true  that  our  tenets  refuse  to 
own  the  utility  of  that  art  to  mankind ;  but  it  seemeth 
to  me  that  we  have  considered  the  matter  too  nicely. 
God  has  bestowed  on  this  youth  a  genius  for  art — shall 
we  question  His  wisdom  ?  Can  we  believe  that  He  gives 
such  rare  gifts  but  for  a  wise  and  a  good  purpose  ?  I  see 
the  Divine  hand  in  this ;  we  shall  do  well  to  sanction 
the  art  and  encourage  this  youth.' " 

The  assembly  seems  to  have  felt  the  Iprce  of  these 


-jrg  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

words,  and  the  young  painter  was  called  in.  He  entered 
and  took  his  station  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  his  father 
on  his  right  hand  and  his  mother  on  the  left,  surrounded 
by  a  company  of  simple-hearted  worshippers.  A  female 
spoke — for  in  the  Society  of  Friends  the  pride  of  man 
has  fastened  no  badge  of  servitude  upon  woman.  There 
seemed  to  be  but  one  opinion.  If  Painting  had  been 
employed  hitherto  only  "to  preserve  voluptuous  images, in 
wise  and  pure  hands  it  may  rise  in  the  scale  of  moral 
excellence,  and  display  a  loftiness  of  sentiment  and  a 
devout  dignity  worthy  of  the  contemplation  of  Christians. 
Genius  is  given  by  God  for  some  high  purpose — what 
that  purpose  is,  let  us  not  inquire — it  will  be  manifest  in 
His  own  good  time  and  way.  He  hath  in  this  remote 
wilderness  endowed  with  the  rich  gifts  of  a  superior 
spirit  this  youth,  who  has  now  our  consent  to  cultivate 
his  talents  for  Art.  May  it  be  demonstrated  in  his  life 
and  works,  that  the  gifts  of  God  have  not  been  bestowed 
in  vain,  nor  the  motives  of  the  beneficent  inspiration 
which  induces  us  to  suspend  the  strict  operation  of  our 
tenets  prove  barren  of  religious  and  moral  effect !" 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,"  says  Gait,  who 
had  the  information  from  West  himself,  "  the  women 
rose  and  kissed  the  young  Artist,  and  the  men  one  by  one 
laid  their  hands  on  his  head."  I  know  of  nothing  more 
beautifiil  in  the  history  of  Art,  or  even  of  Religion.  I 
know  of  no  scene  more  worthy  of  the  pencils  of  our 
painters,  than  this  first,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  last  con- 
secration, in  our  country,  of  a  young  genius  to  Art.  I  am 
not  certain,  too,  if  this  may  not  have  been  the  first  meet- 
ing ever  convened  in  America  to  consider  the  high 
claims  of  Art  upon  citizens  and  Christians,  and  I  should 
be  inclined  to  doubt  if  any  assembly  has  ever  since  been 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


n 


gathered,  which  has  put  forth  so  high,  lasting,  and  noble 
an  influence  upon  the  Fine  Arts. 

It  was  a  scene  the  young  painter  himself  never  for- 
got. He  assured  Gait  that  from  that  hour  he  considered 
himself  expressly  dedicated  to  Art — and  that  this  release 
from  the  strict  tenets  of  his  religious  community  implied 
a  covenant  on  his  part  to  employ  his  powers  on  subjects 
holy  and  pure.  How  sacredly  he  regarded  this  covenant 
the  world  knows — for  no  painter  ever  painted  so  much 
who  always  chose  such  pure  and  lofty  themes.  These 
honest  men  decided  that  the  Lord  had  made  Benjamin 
to  be  a  painter.  How  well  they  judged  their  neighbors  had 
a  fair  opportunity  of  knowing  when  '  Christ  Healing  the 
Sick  '  and  '  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse  '  were  hung  up  in 
Philadelphia. 

Young  West  had  his  eye  now  fixed  steadily  upon  the 
fame  that  would  gratify  the  dreams  of  his  early  ambition, 
and  returned  with  Provost  Smith  to  Philadelphia. 
He  dedicated  himself  to  study  with  earnestness  and  un- 
tiring perseverance,  for  a  considerable  period,  until  his 
career  was  interrupted  by  a  summons  from  Springfield, 
to  hasten  to  the  bedside  of  his  d)ing  mother.  He  ar- 
rived just  in  time  to  receive  the  welcome  of  her  eyes, 
and  her  mute  blessing.  His  biographers  all  speak  of 
the  noble  veneration  and  affection  with  which  he  always 
mentioned  his  mother.  "  When  he  was  old  and  gray," 
says  one,  "  he  Recalled  her  looks,  and  dwelt  on  her  ex- 
pressions of  fondness  and  of  hope,  with  a  sadness  which 
he  wished  neither  to  subdue  nor  conceal."  We  love  to 
speak  of  this  beautiful  characteristic  of  West.  It  de- 
clares the  nobleness  of  his  nature,  that,  long  years  after, 
when  his  head  was  encircled  with  a  halo  of  fame,  more 
brilliant  than  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  man,  the  idol  of  a 


yg  ,  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

British  king,  he  used  to  go  from  scenes  of  splendor  and 
gaiety,  and  around  his  fireside  talk  to  some  kind  friend 
about  his  mother ! 

Over  the  grave  of  this  gifted  and  affectionate  parent 
he  broke  the  ties  that  held  him  to  his  home,  and  he  left 
it  to  go  into  the  great  world,  to  win  his  own  fame  and 
court  fortune  among  strangers.  He  was  eighteen  years 
old  when  he  returned  to  Philadelphia  to  establish  him- 
self as  a  portrait  painter.  A  few  circumstances  only 
are  to  be  mentioned,  and  then  we  shall  come  to  his 
European  life.  His  prices  were,  for  a  head  ^^12  50, 
and  ^25  for  a  half-length.  His  merit  was  great,  his 
reputation  was  increasing,  and  he  found  sitters  enough 
to  occupy  his  pencil.  Governor  Hamilton  had  one  pic- 
ture in  his  house  which  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
West's  advancement.  A  St.  Ignatius  of  the  Murillo 
school,  captured  in  a  Spanish  prize !  It  was  the  best 
picture  West  had  yet  seen,  and  he  copied  it  with  con- 
siderable beauty,  which  added  to  his  reputation.  Provost 
Smith  was  anxious  to  have  him  now  paint  portraits  in  a 
similar  attitude — thus  blending  historical  and  portrait 
painting.  No  one,  of  course,  in  our  time  will  be 
surprised  to  hear  that  such  an  attempt  was  speedily 
abandoned. 

A  Mr.  Cox  commissioned  him  to  paint  an  historical 
composition,  the  '  Trial  of  Susannah' — "  a  work"  says 
Cunningham,  "  which  he  loved  long  after  to  talk  about 
and  describe."  But  West,  who  had  now  only  one  ob- 
ject in  view — to  complete  his  studies  in  Europe — came  to 
New-York  and  opened  a  studio.  His  reputation  had 
gone  before  him,  and  for  eleven  months  he  had  all  the 
portraits  he  could  execute  at  double  the  prices  he  re- 
ceived in  Philadelphia.     Dunlap  has  given  a  very  beau- 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  79 

tiful  and  graphic  account  of  his  embarkation  for  Italy. 
"  He  had  now  accumulated  nearly  enough  by  his  indus- 
try to  waft  him  to  the  'land  where  the  orange  trees 
l)loom,'  and  where  the  Fine  Arts  have  left  a  lasting  im- 
pression of  the  time  they  did  flourish,  when  he  heard 
that  a  ship  was  about  to  sail  from  his  own  homely  coun- 
try to  carry  food  to  the  inhabitants  of  Italy,  who  have  in 
modern  as  well  as  ancient  times  been  more  abounding 
in  marble  than  bread.  Mr.  Allen,  of  Philadelphia, 
was  loading  a  ship  with  flour  for  Leghorn,  and  West, 
who  was  painting  a  picture  of  Mr.  Kelly  of  New- York, 
when  he  heard  the  news  mentioned  it  to  his  sitter,  with 
his  intention  to  take  advantage  of  this  extraordinary  oc- 
currence. Kelly's  portrait  being  finished,  and  the  ten 
guineas  paid  for  it,  he  gave  a  letter  in  charge  to  the  painter 
for  his  agent  in  Philadelphia,  which  on  delivery  proved 
an  order  for  fifty  guineas,  to  assist  the  youth  in  his  pro- 
jected journey,  and  his  intended  studies  abroad.  In  the 
mean  time  Mr.  Allen  had  determined  his  son  should 
have  the  benefit  of  travel  by  accompanying  the  flour, 
and  West's  invaluable  friend.  Provost  Smith,  had  obtain- 
ed permission  for  the  young  painter  to  accompany  the 
young  merchant.  Thus  every  thing  seemed  to  conspire 
for  the  furtherance  of  the  vouth's  advancement  in  the 
road  to  wealth  and  honor.  He  found  friends  eager  to 
assist  him  at  every  step — was  it  not  because  it  was  seen 
by  all  that  every  step  was  in  the  right  path — that  his 
mind  was  as  deeply  imbued  with  the  love  of  virtue  as 
the  love  of  his  Art.  Such  was  the  character  of  West 
through  life,  and  through  life  his  success  was  uniform. 
He  met  in  his  way  false  friends,  detractors  and  libellers, 
but  he  never  turned  aside,  and  as  he  approached  that 
height  at  which  he  aimed  from  childhood,  the  hands  of 


90  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

those  who  had  attained  or  had  been  seated  on  his  up- 
ward way  were  stretched  forth  to  welcome  him.  We 
see  the  undeviating  tribute  paid  to  worth  and  genius  in 
his  ascending  progress ;  whether  in  the  homely  encour- 
agement given  by  Henry,  the  gunsmith  of  Lancaster, 
the  refined  and  well  directed  friendship  of  Provost  Smith, 
the  frank  liberality  of  the  merchants,  Kelly  and  Allen, 
the  enlightened  admiration  of  the  men  of  fortune  who 
received  him  with  open  arms  at  Rome,  as  we  have  yet 
to  mention,  or  finally  in  the  smiles  of  the  nobles  and 
the  sovereign  of  England,  who  hailed  his  arrival  with  joy 
in  the  land  of  his  fathers." 

In  describing  his  approach  to  Rome,  Cunnningham 
says — "  He  had  walked  on  while  his  travelling  compan- 
ion was  baiting  the  horses,  and  had  reached  a  rising 
ground  which  offered  him  a  view  far  and  wide ;  the  sun 
was  newly  risen,  and  he  saw  before  him  a  spacious  cam- 
pagna,  bounded  by  green  hills  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
wilderness  of  noble  ruins,  over  which  towered  the  no- 
bler dome  of  St.  Peter's.  A  broken  column  at  his  feet, 
which  served  as  a  mile-stone,  informed  him  that  he  was 
within  8000  paces  of  the  ancient  mistress  of  the  world  ; 
and  a  sluggish  boor,  clad  in  rough  goat-skins,  driving 
his  flock  to  pasture  amid  the  ruins  of  a  temple,  told  him 
how  far  she  had  fallen." 

On  the  morning  of  the  10th  of  July,  1760,  West  en- 
tered Rome.  He  was  in  his  twenty-second  year,  and 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  '  make  his  fame  and  his  fortune.' 
The  arrival  in  Rome  of  a  young  Quaker  from  the  wild 
woods  of  America  to  study  Art,  excited  universal  wonder. 
He  was  the  first  representative  in  that  Ancient  Seat  o£ 
Empire,  of  the  Arts  and  Artists  of  the  New  World,  and 
his  arrival  was  regarded  as  a  strange  event.     Those  who 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  3| 

had  not  seen  him,  supposed  of  course  that  he  was  a  sav- 
age. One  evening,  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  vras  *  exhi- 
bited' at  a  soiree^  by  Lord  Grantham.  He  had  been 
furnished  with  letters  of  introduction  to  several  distin- 
guished characters,  some  of  whom  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent that  evening.  The  celebrated  Cardinal  Albani, 
'  who,  though  old  and  blind,  had  such  delicacy  of  touch, 
that  he  was  considered  supreme  in  all  matters  of  judg- 
ment regarding  medals  and  intaglios.' — 'Is  he  black  or 
white  ?'  blandly  inquired  the  venerable  virtuoso,  holding 
out  both  hands,  that  he  might  have  the  satisfaction  of 
touching,  at  least,  this  new  wonder.  Lord  Grantham 
smiled  and  said :  '  He  is  fair-r-^very  fair.'  '  What !  as 
fair  as  I  am  .^'  exclaimed  the  Prelate.  Now  the  com- 
plexion of  this  churchman  was  a  deep  olive — that  of  West 
more  than  commonly  fair — and  as  they  stood  together, 
the  company  smiled. — '  As  fair  as  the  Cardinal,'  became 
for  awhile  proverbial." 

British  noblemen  are  fond  of  exhibiting  Lions,  and  it 
was  considered  in  Rome  a  superb  stroke  of  good  fortune 
to  Lord  Grantham  that  he  had  fallen  upon  a  protege  so 
rare  and  recherche.  The  Connoisseurs  "  wished  to  try 
what  effect  the  Apollo,  the  Venus,  and  the  works  of  Ra- 
phael would  have  upon  him,"  and  Gait  says  that  thirty 
of  the  most  magnificent  equipages  in  the  Capital  of 
Christendom,  and  filled  with  some  of  the  most  erudite 
characters  in  Europe,  conducted  the  young  Quaker  to 
view  some  of  the  masterpieces  of  Art.  It  was  agreed 
that  the  Apollo  should  be  first  submitted  to  his  view :  the 
statue  was  enclosed  in  a  case,  and  when  the  keeper  threw 
open  the  doors.  West  unconsciously  exclaimed:  'My 
God  1  a  young  Mohawk  Warrior !'     The  Italians  were 

6 


g2  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

surprised  and  mortified  with  the  comparison  of  their  no- 
blest statue  to  a  wild  Savage,  and  West,  perceiving  the 
unfortunate  impression,  proceeded  to  remove  it.  He  de- 
scribed the  Mohawks — the  natural  elegance  and  admira- 
ble symmetry  of  their  persons — the  elasticity  of  their 
limbs,  and  their  motions  free  and  unconstrained.  '  I 
have  seen  them  often,'  he  continued,  '  standing  in  the 
very  attitude  of  this  Apollo,  and  pursuing  with  an  intense 
eye  the  arrow  which  they  had  just  discharged  from  the 
bow.'  The  Italians  cleared  their  moody  brows,  and  al- 
lowed that  a  better  criticism  had  rarely  been  pronounced." 
West  was  no  longer  a  barbarian. 

i  West  was  now  '  the  Lion'  of  society,  which  was  a 
matter  of  no  consequence  except  as  it  gave  him  a  fine  op- 
portunity of  displaying  his  genius  for  Art.  His  drawings 
he  had  shown  to  Mengs,  the  greatest  Artist  then  at  Rome, 
but  they  gave  indication  of  no  very  extraordinary  talent. 
"  I  cannot,"  said  West  to  Lord  Grantham,  "  produce  a 
finished  sketch  like  the  other  students,  because  1  have 
never  been  instructed  in  drawing,  but  I  can  paint  a  lit- 
tle, and  if  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  sit  for  your  por- 
trait, that  I  may  show  it  to  Mengs,  you  will  do  me  a 
great  favor."  He  did  so,  and  the  picture  was  shown  to 
a  company  of  Amateurs  and  Artists  in  the  Crespigni 
Gallery;  the  painter's  name  was  kept  secret.  Some 
thought  it  the  work  of  Mengs,  although  it  surpassed  him 
in  coloring.  An  English  Connoisseur  present  said : 
'  The  coloring  surpasses  that  of  Mengs,  but  the  drawing 
is  neither  so  fine  nor  so. good.'  Crespigni  seized  the 
proper  moment  and  said  :  '  It  is  not  painted  by  Mengs.' 
'  By  whom  then .?'  they  exclaimed,  '  for  there  is  no  other 
painter  in  Rome  capable  of  doing  any  thing  so  good.' 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


83 


*  By  that  young  gentleman,'  said  the  other,  turning  to 
West,  who  sat  uneasy  and  agitated.  The  English  held 
out  their  hands ;  the  Italians  ran  and  embraced  him." 

Soon  after  Mengs  came  in.  "  He  looked  at  the  pic- 
ture," says  Cunningham,  "  and  spoke  with  great  kind- 
ness :  '  Young  man,  you  have  no  occasion  to  remain  in 
Rome  to  learn  to  paint.  What  I  therefore  recom- 
mend to  you  is  this :  Examine  every  thing  here  wor- 
thy of  attention — making  drawings  of  some  half  a  dozen 
of  the  best  statues.  Go  to  Florence,  and  study  in  the 
Galleries.  Go  to  Bologna,  and  study  the  works  of  the 
Carracci;  and  then  proceed  to  Venice,  and  view  the 
productions  of  Tintorelli,  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese. 
When  all  this  is  accomplished,  return  to  Rome,  paint  an 
historical  picture,  exhibit  it  publicly,  and  then  the  opin- 
ion which  will  be  expressed  of  your  talents,  will  deter- 
mine the  line  of  Art  which  you  ought  to  pursue.'  A  dan- 
gerous illness  interposed,  and  for  a  time  prevented  West 
from  following  this  common  but  sensible  counsel.  The 
change  of  scene,  the  presence  of  works  of  first-rate,  excel- 
lence, and  the  anxiety  to  distinguish  himself,  preyed  upon 
him ;  sleep  deserted  his  pillow,  a  fever  followed,  and  by  the 
advice  of  his  physicians,  he  returned  to  Leghorn,  where, 
after  a  lingering  sickness  of  eleven  months,  he  was  com- 
pletely cured." 

"  Those  who  befriend  genius  when  it  is  struggling 
for  distinction  befriend  the  world,  and  their  names 
should  be  held  in  remembrance.  There  is  good  sense 
and  right  feeling  in  the  reply  of  Mahomet  to  the  insin- 
uation of  the  fair  Ayesha,  that  his  first  wife,  Cadijah, 
was  old  and  unlovely,  and  that  he  had  now  a  better  in 
her  place.  '  No,  by  Allah !  there  never  was  a  better. 
— She   believed  in   me  when  men  despised  me :    she 


|M|  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

relieved  my  wants  when  I  was  poor  and  persecuted  by 
the  world.'  The  names  of  Smith,  Hamilton,  Kelly, 
Allen,  Jackson,  Rutherford,  and  Lord  Grantham  must 
be  dear  to  all  admirers  of  West :  they  aided  him  in  the 
infancy  of  his  fame  and  fortune." 

West's  successful  debut  as  an  artist  in  Rome  was 
known  in  Philadelphia.  Allen  the  merchant,  whose 
name  has  already  been  mentioned,  was  dining  with 
Governor  Hamilton — West  was  the  theme  of  their  con- 
versation. "  I  regard  this  young  man,"  said  the  mer- 
chant, "  as  an  honor  to  his  country ;  and  as  he  is  the 
first  that  America  has  sent  out  to  cultivate  the  Fine 
Arts,  he  shall  not  be  frustrated  in  his  studies,  for  I  shall 
send  him  whatever  money  he  may  require."  "  I  think 
with  you.  Sir,"  said  Hamilton,  "  but  you  must  not  have 
all  the  honor  to  yourself:  allow  me  to  unite  with  you  in 
the  responsibility  of  the  credit."  Mr.  Gait  finishes  the 
story  well.  "  When  West,"  some  time  after,  "  went  to 
take  up  ten  pounds  from  his  agentSj  the  last  of  the  sum 
with  which  he  had  commenced  his  studies,  one  of  the 
partners  opened  a  letter  and  said,  '  I  am  instructed  to 
give  you  unlimited  credit:  you  will  please  have  the 
goodness  to  ask  for  what  sum  you  please.'  The  munifi- 
cence of  the  Medici  was  equalled  by  these  American 
magistrates." 

This  is  high  praise,  but  it  was  scarcely  unmerited — 
their  aid  at  that  moment  was  all  West  needed.  Hr 
visited  Florence,  Bologna,  and  Venice,  carefully  study- 
ing all  the  works  of  the  Great  Masters  those  beautiful 
cities  contain.  At  Parma  he  was  elected  a  Member  of 
the  Academy — he  painted  for  the  Academy  a  copy  of 
the  St.  Jerome  of  Correggio,  "  of  such  excellence,  that 
the  reigning  Prince  desired  to  see  the  Artist.     He  went 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  HP 

to  Court,  and,  to  the  utter  confusion  of  the  attendants, 
appeared  with  his  hat  on.  The  Prince  was  a  lover  of 
William  Penn,  and  he  received  the  young  artist  with 
complacency,  and  dismissed  him  with  many  expressions 
of  regard.  During  his  visits  to  Florence  and  Bologna 
he  had  also  received  the  honors  of  their  Academies. 

When  he  returned  to  Rome,  he  painted  a  picture 
of  '  Cimon  and  Iphigenia,'  and  another  of  '  Angelica 
and  Medora.'  These  works  established  his  reputation 
in  Italy.  He  had  no  rival  in  Italy  but  Mengs  and  Pom- 
peo  Battoni,  and  he  soon  left  those  painters  far  behind 
him.  After  four  years  of  study  and  triumph  in  that 
unfortunate  but  beautiful  land,  he  turned  his  face  towards 
the  Alps,  with  a  determination  to  visit  England,  and  then 
return  to  his  native  country — but  he  little  knew  how 
brilliant  a  career  he  was  to  run. 

He  arrived  at  London  the  twentieth  of  June,  1763. 
"  Allen,  Hamilton,  and  Smith,  his  early  and  steadfast 
friends,  happened  to  be  there.  They  welcomed  him 
with  open  arms,  and  introduced  him  to  the  many  officers 
of  note  who  had  heard  of  him  in  Pennsylvania.  He 
was  introduced  to  Reynolds,  and  a  letter  from  Mengs 
made  him  acquainted  with  Wilson.  Intercourse  with 
artists  and  an  examination  of  their  works  awakened 
his  ambition — he  consulted  no  one,  but  took  chambers 
in  Bedford  street,  Covent-Garden,  and  set  up  his  easel." 

He  could  not  have  arrived  in  London  at  a  more  aus- 
picious period.  There  was  hardly  an  historical  painter 
of  genius  now  engaged  in  his  Art  in  Great  Britain.  Ho- 
garth was  dying — Barry  had  abandoned  his  easel  to 
carry  on  controversies  in  Rome — Reynolds  was  devoted 
to  Portraits — Wilson  was  neglected — Gainslx)rough  con- 
fined himself  chiefly  to  Landscapes — West  was  thrown 


4|g  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

by  fortune  into  a  path  that  was  to  lead  him  to  fame. 
But  before  he  could  succeed  as  an  historical  painter,  he 
had  to  create  a  new  taste  in  Great  Britain — for  there 
were  few  countries  in  Europe  where  there  was  at  that 
time  so  little  appreciation  of  high  Art  as  in  England.  In 
the  Percy  Anecdotes,  a  story  to  the  point  is  told.  West 
exhibited  his  Pylades  and  Orestes,  one  of  his  very  best 
pictures.  After  speaking  of  the  excitement  it  produced 
among  the  higher  circles  of  London,  he  proceeds :  "  But 
the  most  wonderful  part  of  the  story  is,  that  notwithstand- 
ing all  this  vast  bustle  and  commendation  bestowed 
upon  that  justly  admired  picture,  by  which  Mr.  West's 
servant  gained  upwards  of  thirty  pounds  for  showing  it, 
•  no  mortal  ever  asked  the  price  of  the  work,  or  so  much 
as  offered  to  give  him  a  commission  to  paint  any  other 
subject.  Indeed,  there  was  one  gentleman  who  was  so 
highly  delighted  with  the  picture,  and  spoke  of  it  with 
such  great  praise  to  his  father,  that  the  latter  immedi- 
ately asked  him  the  reason  he  did  not  purchase  what  he 
so  much  admired — when  he  answered, '  What  could  I  do 
if  I  had  it  ?  You  would  not  surely  have  me  hang  up  a 
modern  English  picture  in  my  house,  unless  it  was  a 
portrait  ?'  "  > 

And  this  was  a  fair  specimen  of  the  vulgarity  of  En- 
glish taste  at  the  time.  Leslie  says  that  no  Englishman 
would  have  dared  to  hang  up  in  his  parlor  or  even  in  his 
Library,  any  one  of  the  matchless  creations  of  Hogarth. 
"  The  connoisseur,"  says  he,  "  who  would  have  ventured 
to  place  the  inimitable  scene  of  the  '  Marriage  a  la  Mode  ' 
on  his  walls,  (I  mean  the  pictures,  the  prints  were  in 
great  request,)  would  have  hazarded  most  fearfully  his 
reputation  for  taste.  This  prejudice  against  living  genius 
continued  until  the  arrival  of  West,  and  it  must  have  re- 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  ^ 

quired  some  courage  in  a  young  man  at  that  time  to 
make  his  appearance  in  England  in  the  character  of  an 
historical  painter.     I  know  not  how  long  his  Pjlades 
and  Orestes  was  on  the  Artist's  hands,  but  when  I  first 
saw  it,  it  was  in  the  collection  of  Sir  George  Beaumont." 
This  Beaumont  did  many  a  generous  thing  for  Art 
and  ■  poor  Artists.     A  beautiful  story  is  told  of  his  kind- 
ness  to  Jackson,    who  afterwards   became   celebrated 
as  a  painter.     He  was  apprenticed  to  a  tailor.      His  tal- 
ent for  drawing  drew  the  attention  of  Lord  Mulgrave 
and  Sir  George  Beaumont,  who  "  purchased  the  lad's 
freedom  from  the  shopboard  and  the  goose,  and  he  im- 
mediately presented   himself,  as  if  by  instinct,  before 
Beaumont  in  London,  and  expressed  his  wish  to  study 
in  the  Royal  Academy.     *  You  have  done  wisely,'  said 
Sir  George ;  '  London  is  the  place  for  talents,  such  as 
yours.'     He  then  gave  him  a  plan  of  study,  and  conclud- 
ed:  *  To  enable  you  to  do  all  this,  you  shall  have  fifty 
pounds  a  year  while  you  are  a  student,  and  live  in  my 
house ;  you  will  soon  require  no  aid.' "     We  shall  never 
be  tired  of  recording  such  generous  deeds.     Cunningham 
says,  "  As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  *  Angelica  and 
Medora,'  he  sent  it  by  the  advice  of  Reynolds  to  the  ex- 
hibition, together  with  the  Cimon  and  Iphigenia,  and  a 
portrait  of  General  Monckton,  second  in  command  to 
Wolfe,  in  the  battle  of  Quebec.     While  he  was  employed 
in  finishing  those  works,  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
introduced  to  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Burke.     Johnson  he 
admired  much,  and  found  him  civil  and  even  kind — 
Burke    also  was  indulgent,  but   our   Artist  conceived 
there  was  an  air  of  mystery  about  his  demeanor.     West 
at  once  recognized  him  as  the  brother  of  the  Chief  of 
the  Benedictine  Monks,  at  Parma.     He  painted  for  Dr. 


1^  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

Newton,  the  *  Parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache,'  and 
for  the  Bishop  of  Worcester,  the  *  Return  of  the  Prodigal 
Son.'  His  reputation  rose  so  much  with  these  produc- 
tions, that  Lord  Rockingham  tempted  him  with  the 
offer  of  a  permanent  engagement,  and  a  salary  of  seven 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  to  embellish  with  Historical 
Paintings  his  mansion  in  Yorkshire.  West  consulted  his 
friends  concerning  this  alluring  offer ;  they  were  sensi- 
ble men  ;  they  advised  him  to  confide  in  the  public ;  and 
he  followed  for  a  time  their  salutary  counsel." 

But  West  had  left  his  heart  in  America,  and  in  all 
his  wanderings  he  seems  to  have  preserved  the  image  of 
a  fair  young  Quakeress  in  his  native  land.  No  alluring 
prospect  of  immediate  fame  could  atone  for  a  longer 
sacrifice  of  his  feelings,  and  he  made  his  preparations  to 
return  to  Philadelphia,  to  claim  his  bride.  "  He  dis- 
closed the  state  of  his  affections  to  his  friends.  Smith 
and  Allen  ;  those  gentlemen  took  a  less  romantic  view 
of  the  matter,  advised  the  Artist  to  stick  to  his  easel,  and 
arranged  the  whole  so  prudently,  that  the  lady  came  to 
London,  accompanied  by  a  relation  whose  time  was 
not  so  valuable  as  West's — and  they  were  married  on 
the  2nd  of  September,  1765,  in  the  Church  of  St,  Mar- 
tin's-in-the-Fields."  West  probably  never  made  a  very 
enthusiastic  lover,  but  he  seems  to  have  begun  no  better 
than  he  held  out,  for  after  something  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury's experience,  (time  enough  to  form  a  tolerably  cor- 
rect opinion,)  his  wife  said  to  Washington  Allston  of 
her  husband — "  Ah  !  he  is  a  good  man — he  never  had  a 
vice !"  "  This,"  says  Allston,  "  was  worth  more  than  a  vol- 
ume of  eulogy." 

No  one  of  West's  Biographers  seems  to  us  to  have 
given  so  good  an  account  of  his  progress  at  this  period, 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  §§ 

as  Cunningham.  "  Dr.  Drummond,  the  Archbishop  of 
York,"  says  he,  "  a  dignified  and  liberal  prelate,  and  an 
admirer  of  painting,  invited  West  to  his  table,  conversed 
with  him  on  the  influence  of  Art,  and  on  the  honor  which 
the  patronage  of  genius  reflected  on  the  rich  ;  and  open- 
ing Tacitus,  pointed  out  that  fine  passage  where  Agrip- 
pina  lands  with  the  ashes  of  Germanicus.  He  caused 
his  son  to  read  it  again  and  again,  commented  upon  it 
with  taste  and  feeling,  and  requested  West  to  make  him 
a  painting  of  that  subject. 

"  The  Artist  went  home.  It  was  then  late,  but  before 
closing  his  eyes  he  formed  a  sketch,  and  carried  it  early 
next  morning  to  his  patron,  who,  glad  to  see  that  his  own 
notions  were  likely  to  be  embodied  in  lasting  colors,  re- 
quested that  the  full  size  work  might  be  proceeded  with. 
Nor  was  this  all — that  munificent  prelate  proposed  to 
raise  three  thousand  pounds  by  subscription,  to  enable 
West  to  relinquish  likenesses  and  give  his  whole  time 
and  talents  to  historical  painting.  Fifteen  hundred 
pounds  were  accordingly  subscribed  by  himself  and  his 
friends ;  but  the  public  refused  to  co-operate,  and  the 
scheme  was  abandoned. 

"  The  Archbishop  regarded  the  failure  of  this  plan  as 
a  stigma  on  the  country ;  his  self-love  too  was  offended. 
He  disregarded  alike  the  coldness  of  the  Duke  of  Port- 
land and  the  evasions  of  Lord  Rockingham,  to  whom  he 
communicated  his  scheme — sought  and  obtained  an  au- 
dience of  His  Majesty,  then  young  and  unacquainted 
with  cares — informed  him  that  a  devout  American  and 
Quaker  had  painted,  at  his  request,  such  a  noble  picture 
that  he  was  desirous  to  secure  his  talents  for  the  throne 
and  the  country.  The  King  was  much  interested  with 
the  story,  and  said,  *  Let  me  see  this  young  painter  of 


90  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

yours  with  his  Agrippina,  as  soon  as  you  please.'     The 
prelate  retired  to  communicate  his  success  to  West. 

"  The  King  received  West  with  easy  frankness,  as- 
sisted him  to  place  the  Agrippina  in  a  favorable  light, 
removed  the  attendants,  and  brought  in  the  Queen,  to 
whom  he  presented  our  Quaker.  He  related  to  Her 
Majesty  the  history  of  the  picture,  and  bade  her  notice 
the  simplicity  of  the  design  and  the  beauty  of  the  color- 
ing. '  There  is  another  noble  Roman  subject,'  observed 
His  Majesty,  '  the  departure  of  Regulus  from  Rome — 
would  it  not  make  a  fine  picture  ?'  *  It  is  a  magnifi- 
cent subject,'  said  the  painter.  *  Then,'  said  the  King, 
'  you  shall  paint  it  for  me.'  He  turned  with  a  smile  to 
the  Queen,  and  said,  '  The  Archbishop  made  one  of 
his  sons  read  Tacitus  to  Mr.  West,  but  I  will  read  Livy 
to  him  myself — that  part  where  he  describes  the  depart- 
ure of  Regulus.'  So  saying,  he  read  the  passage  very 
gracefully,  and  then  repeated  his  command  that  the 
picture  should  be  painted." 

"  The  Departure  of  Regulus,"  Dunlap  says  with 
truth,  "  placed  West  on  the  throne  of  English  Art." 
While  he  was  engaged  on  that  piece,  the  plan  of  the 
present  Royal  Academy  at  London,  which  is  now  the 
pride  of  Great  Britain,  was  projected.  "  The  Society 
of  Incorporated  Artists,  of  which  West  was  a  member, 
had  grown  rich  by  yearly  exhibitions,  and  how  to  lay  out 
this  money  became  the  subject  of  vehement  debate." 
"  Indecent  bickerings  "  followed,  and  West  and  Rey- 
nolds withdrew  from  the  Society,  and  formed  a  plan  for  a 
new  institution,  which  might  put  forth  a  higher  and  more 
beneficent  influence  upon  the  cause  of  Art.  The  King 
approved  the  plan,  corrected  it,  and  drew  up  some  ad- 
ditional articles  with  his  own  hand.     "  Meanwhile  the 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  '  ||| 

Incorporated  Artists  continued  their  debates,  in  total 
ignorance  that  their  dissenting  brethren  were  laying  the 
foundation  of  a  surer  structure  than  their  own.  Kirby, 
teacher  of  perspective  to  the  King,  had  been  chosen 
President ;  so  secretly  was  all  managed,  that  he  had 
never  heard  a  whisper  in  the  palace  concerning  the  new 
Academy,  and  in  his  inaugural  address  from  the  chair 
he  assured  his  companions  that  His  Majesty  would  not 
countenance  the  schismatics.  While  West  was  one  day 
busy  with  his  '  Regulus,'  the  King  and  Queen  looking 
on,  Kirby  was  announced,  and  His  Majesty,  having  con- 
sulted his  consort  in  German,  admitted  him  and  intro- 
duced him  to  West,  to  whose  person  he  was  a  stranger. 
He  looked  at  the  picture,  praised  it  warmly,  and  con- 
gratulated the  Artist ;  then,  turning  to  the  King,  said, 
*  Your  Majesty  never  mentioned  any  thing  of  this  work 
to  me  :  who  made  the  frame  ?  It  is  not  made  by  one  of 
your  Majesty's  workmen  :  it  ought  to  have  been  made 
by  the  royal  carver  and  gilder.'  To  this  impertinence 
the  King  answered,  with  great  calmness,  '  Kirby,  when- 
ever you  are  able  to  paint  me  such  a  picture  as  this, 
your  friend  shall  make  the  frame.'  '  I  hope,  Mr.  West,' 
said  Kirby,  '  that  you  intend  to  exhibit  this  picture.'  *  It 
is  painted  for  the  palace,'  said  West,  '  and  its  exhibition 
must  depend  upon  His  Majesty's  pleasure.'  '  Assuredly,' 
said  the  King,  *  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  let  the  work 
be  shown  to  the  public'  '  Then,  Mr.  West,'  said  Kirby, 
'you  will  send  it  to  my  exhibition.'  'No!'  interrupted 
His  Majesty,  '  it  must  go  to  my  exhibition — to  that  of 
the  Royal  Academy.'  The  President  of  the  Associated 
Artists  bowed  with  much  humility,  and  retired.  He  did 
not  long  survive  this  mortification.   The  Royal  Academy 


9f[  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

was  founded,  and  in  its  first  exhibition  appeared  the 
*  Regulus.'  "  t 

This  first  great  effort  of  West,  which  won  him  so 
much  reputation,  was  one  of  the  largest  and  perhaps  the 
best  historical  picture  which  had  for  a  long  time  been 
painted  in  England.  A  fine  engraving  was  made  from 
it',  the  only  copy  of  which  I  have  ever  seen  in  this  coun- 
try is  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  J.  H.  Foster,  Warren-street, 
New- York,  who  has  also  a  copy  of  *  Young  Hannibal 
swearing  eternal  enmity  to  the  Romans,'  engraved  by 
the  same  hand. 

We  now  come  to  the  most  interesting  crisis  in  the 
Artistic  Life  of  West. 

"  A  change  was  now  to  be  effected,"  remarks  Cun- 
ningham, "  in  the  character  of  British  Art ;  hitherto  his- 
torical painting  had  appeared  in  a  masked  habit ;  the 
actions  of  Englishmen  seemed  all  to  have  been  performed, 
if  costume  were  to  be  believed,  by  Greeks  or  by  Romans. 
West  dismissed  at  once  this  pedantry,  and  restored  na- 
ture and  propriety  in  his  noble  work  of  *  The  Death  of 
Wolfe.'  The  multitude  acknowledged  its  excellence  at 
once.  The  lovers  of  old  art,  the  manufacturers  of  com- 
positions called  by  courtesy  classical,  complamed  of  the 
barbarism  of  boots,  and  buttons,  and  blunderbusses,  and 
cried  out  for  naked  warriors,  with  bows,  bucklers,  and 
battering  rams.  Lord  Grosvenor,  disregarding  the  frowns 
of  the  amateurs,  and  the,  at  best,  cold  approbation  of  the 
Academy,  purchased  this  work,  which,  in  spite  of  laced 
coats  and  cocked  hats,  is  one  of  the  best  of  our  historical 
pictures.  The  Indian  warrior,  watching  the  dying  hero, 
to  see  if  he  equalled  in  fortitude  the  children  of  the  des- 
erts, is  a  fine  stroke  of  nature  and  poetry." 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 

The  King  questioned  West  concerning  the  picture, 
and  put  him  on  his  defence  of  this  new  heresy  in  art. 
To  the  curiosity  of  Gait  we  owe  the  sensible  answer  of 
West: — "When  it  was  understood,"  said  the  artist, 
"  that  I  intended  to  paint  the  characters  as  they  had  ac- 
tually appeared  on  the  scene,  the  Archbishop  of  York 
called  on  Reynolds,  and  asked  his  opinion ;  they  both 
came  to  my  house  to  dissuade  me  from  running  so  great 
a  risk.  Reynolds  began  a  very  ingenious  and  elegant 
dissertation  on  the  state  of  the  public  taste  in  this  coun- 
try, and  the  danger  which  every  innovation  incurred  of 
contempt  and  ridicule,  and  concluded  by  urging  me  ear- 
nestly to  adopt  the  costume  of  antiquity,  as  more  becom- 
ing the  greatness  of  my  subject  than  the  modern  garb  of 
European  warriors.  I  answered  that  the  event  to  be 
commemorated  happened  in  the  year  1758,  in  a  region 
of  the  world  unknown  to  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and 
at  a  period  of  time  when  no  warriors  who  wore  such  cos- 
tume existed.  The  subject  I  have  to  represent  is  a  great 
battle  fought  and  won,  and  the  same  truth  which  gives 
law  to  the  historian  should  rule  the  painter.  If  instead 
of  the  facts  of  the  action  I  introduce  fictions,  how  shall 
I  be  understood  by  posterity?  The  classic  dress  is  cer- 
tainly picturesque,  but  by  using  it  I  shall  lose  in  senti- 
ment what  I  gain  in  external  grace.  I  want  to  mark  the 
place,  the  time,  and  the  people,  and  to  do  this  I  must 
abide  by  truth.  They  went  away  then,  and  returned 
again  when  I  had  the  painting  finished.  Reynolds  seated 
himself  before  the  picture,  examined  it  with  deep  and 
minute  attention  for  half  an  hour ;  then  rising,  said  to 
Drummond,  '  West  has  conquered ;  he  has  treated  his 
subject  as  it  ought  to  be  treated ;  I  retract  my  objec- 
tions.    I  foresee  that  this  picture  will  not  only  become 


9l|^  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

one  of  the  most  popular,  but  will  oscasion  a  revolution 
in  art.'"  "  I  wish,"  said  the  King,  "  that  I  had  known 
all  this  before,  for  the  objection  has  been  the  means  of 
Lord  Grosvenor's  getting  the  picture,  but  you  shall  make 
a  copy  for  me." 

"  West  had  now  obtained  the  personal  confidence  of 
the  King,  and  the  favor  of  the  public ;  his  commissions 
were  numerous,  but  of  course  the  works  for  the  palace 
had  precedence.  His  Majesty  employed  him  to  paint 
the  '  Death  of  Epaminondas,'  as  a  companion  to  that  of 
Wolfe,  the  death  of  the  *  Chevalier  Bayard,'  '  Cyrus  lib- 
erating the  King  of  Armenia,'  and  '  Segestes  and  his 
daughter  brought  before  Germanicus.'  He  suggested 
to  the  King  a  series  of  pictures  on  the  Progress  of  Re- 
vealed Religion :  a  splendid  oratory  was  projected  for 
their  reception.  He  divided  his  subject  into  Four  Dis- 
pensations— the  Antediluvian,  the  Patriarchal,  the  Mo- 
saical,  and  the  Prophetical ;  they  contained  in  all,  thirty- 
six  subjects,  eighteen  of  which  belonged  to  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, the  rest  to  the  New.  They  were  all  sketched, 
and  twenty-eight  were  executed,  for  which  West  receiv- 
ed in  all,  twenty-one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  five 
pounds.  A  work  so  varied,  so  extensive,  and  so  noble 
in  its  nature,  was  never  before  undertaken  by  any 
painter." 

'  The  Battle  of  La  Hogue  '  is  one  of  West's  finest 
pictures.  While  he  was  painting  this  noble  piece,  a 
British  Admiral  took  him  to  Spithead,  and  sent  a  squad- 
ron out  to  sea  and  put  them  into  action,  firing  broadsides, 
to  give  the  painter  an  idea  of  smoke  rolling  off  from  a 
naval  engagement. 

West  expressed  on  a  certain  occasion  his  regret  that 
**  the  Italians  had  dipped  their  pencils  in  the  Monkish 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  g|^ 

miracles  and  incredible  legends  of  the  church,  to  the  al- 
most total  neglect  of  the  national  history.  The  King 
instantly  bethought  him  of  the  victorious  reign  of  our 
Third  Edward,  and  of  St.  George's  Hall  in  Windsor 
Castle.  West  had  a  ready  hand  ;  he  sketched  out  the 
following  subjects — seven  of  which  are  from  real,  and 
one  from  fabulous  history : 

"1.  Edward  theThird  embracing  the  Black  Prince, 
after  the  Battle  of  Cressy.  2.  The  Installation  of  the 
Order  of  the  Garter.  3.  The  Black  Prince  receiving  the 
King  of  France  and  his  son  prisoners,  at  Poictiers.  4. 
St.  George  vanquishing  the  Dragon.  5.  Queen  Phillipa 
defeating  David  of  Scotland,  in  the  battle  of  Neville's 
Cross.  6.  Queen  Phillipa  interceding  with  Edward  for 
the  Burgesses  of  Calais.  7.  King  Edward  forcing  the 
passage  of  the  Somme.  8.  King  Edward  crowning  Sir 
Eustace  de  Ribaumont  at  Calais.  These  works  are 
very  large.  They  were  the  fruit  of  long  study  and  much 
labor,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  Death  of  Wolfe 
and  the  Battle  of  La  Hogue,  they  are  the  best  of  all  the 
numerous  works  of  this  Artist." 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  George  IV.,  was 
called  the  'finest  gentleman  in  Europe.'  Leslie  tells 
one  fact  to  show  it.  While  this  '  gentleman '  was 
making  some  alterations  in  Windsor  Castle,  he  came  to 
a  room  filled  with  these  noble  paintings.  They  were 
the  most  valuable  pictures  in  England.  But  what  cared 
he  for  works  of  art — for  the  history  of  Edward  ?  Just 
about  as  much  as  the  Repudiator  himself  for  his  debts. 
He  ordered  the  pictures  to  be  all  thrown  into  a  lumber 
room  to  be  eaten  by  palace  rats,  which  are  larger  and 
consequently  more  voracious  than  the  rats  of  the  people. 


9g  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  who  always  had  a  great  admira- 
tion for  West's  historical  pieces,  told  this  '  gentleman ' 
that  he  could  do  as  he  pleased,  to  be  sure,  but  no  living 
artist  could  supply  their  places.  The  'gentleman' 
thought  it  might  be  an  evidence  of  bad  taste  to  give, 
them  to  the  rats,  and  they  were  saved. 

Professor  Morse  told  Dunlap  an  interesting  anecdote 
about  West  and  George  III.  The  Professor  found  West 
engaged  one  day  in  copying  a  portrait  of  the  King. 
"  This  picture,"  said  the  old  painter,  "  is  remarkable  for. 
one  circumstance :  the  King  was  sitting  to  me  for  it^ 
when  a  messenger  brought  him  the  '  Declaration  of 
Independence.'  "  It  may  be  supposed  that  the  question, 
"  How  did  he  receive  the  news  ?"  was  asked.  "  He  was 
agitated  at  first,"  said  West;  "then  sat  silent  and 
thoughtful.  At  length  he  said,  '  Well,  if  they  cannot 
be  happy  under  my  government,  I  hope  they  may  not 
change  it  for  a  worse.  I  wish  them  no  ill.' "  "  If  such 
was  George  the  Third,"  says  Dunlap,  "  we  find  no  dif- 
ficulty in  reconciling  his  attachment  to  Benjamin  West 
with  the  American's  honest  love  of  his  native  land." 

When  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  died,  the  choice  of  the 
Royal  Academy  fell  on  West,  and  he  was  elected  Pres- 
ident with  the  'ready  assent  of  the  King.'  British 
writers  seem  to  have  had  but  one  opinion  on  the  propri- 
ety of  this  choice — there  was  no  man  in  Great  Britain 
whose  title  to  the  honor  was  so  clear.  The  King  offered 
him  on  this  occasion  the  honor  qf  knighthood.  "  Every 
American,"  says  Dunlap,  "  will  rejoice  that  he  rejected 
the  nick-name."  It  had  been  the  custom  to  confer  this 
honor  on  the  most  distinguished  painter  in  England. 
West  was  the  only  man  who  declined  the  title.     Eng- 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


97 


lishmen  still  call  this  American  '  Sir  Benjamin.'  Well, 
as  long  as  they  do  not  know  how  such  a  *  nick-name ' 
belittles  a  man  like  West,  we  must  overlook  it. 

Leslie,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Dunlap,  sajs,  "  Mr. 
West  was,  as  you  know,  at  all  times  delighted  to  receive 
Americans,  and  no  subject  of  conversation  interested 
him  more  than  the  present  greatness  and  future  prospects 
of  the  United  States.  His  political  opinions  were 
known  to  be  too  liberal  for  the  party  wlio  governed 
England  during  the  regency  and  the  reign  of  George  IV. 
Whether  owing  to  this  cause  or  not,  he  was  certainly 
out  of  favor  with  the  Court  during  all  the  time  of  George 
the  Third's  long  seclusion  from  the  world.  It  was  to 
the  credit  of  that  monarch,  that  he  never  allowed  the 
political  opinions  of  Mr.  West  to  interfere  with  his  ad- 
miration of  him  as  an  Artist,  and  his  friendship  for  him 
as  a  man.  The  King  died  while  Mr.  West  was  confined 
to  his  bed  with  his  last  illness.  Raphael  AVest  endeav- 
ored to  keep  the  newspaper  from  him,  but  he  guessed 
the  reason,  and  said,  "  I  am  sure  the  King  is  dead,  and 
I  have  lost  the  best  friend  I  ever  had  in  my  life." 

When  the  good  old  Sovereign,  George  III.,  "lost 
his  senses,"  a  cloud  began  to  overshadow  the  path  of 
the  great  painter  for  the  first  time.  Hitherto  intrigues 
had  been  planned ;  ministers  and  courtiers,  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  his  parasites  and  his  mistresses,  had  all  plotted 
against  the  American  painter  in  vain.  But  the  very 
moment  George  III.  was  taken  from  public  life.  West's 
career  was  for  a  while  arrested.  From  1769  to  1801 
he  had  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  his  Royal  friend,  and 
"  received  all  orders  for  pictures  from  His  Majesty  in 
person.  They  had  settled  the  subject  and  price  between 
them  without  the  intervention  of  others,  and  in  addition 

7 


gg^  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

to  this  one  thousand  pounds  a  year  paid  on  account,  he 
had  received  whatever  more,  and  it  was  not  much,  might 
be  due  upon  the  pictures  actually  painted.  A  great 
change  was  near.  A  mental  cloud  fell  upon  the  King, 
and  the  Artist  was  the  first  to  be  made  sensible  that  the 
sceptre  was  departed  from  his  hand." 

Here  Cunningham  has  given  a  touching  description. 
"  The  doors  of  the  palace  which  had  hitherto  opened 
spontaneously,  like  those  of  Milton's  Paradise,  no  longer 
flew  wide  at  his  approach,  but  turned  on  their  hinges 
grating,  and  reluctantly."  Mr.  Wyatt,  the  royal  archi- 
tect, informed  West  that  the  painting  of  the  chapel  at 
Windsor  was  suspended. — "  This  extraordinary  pro- 
ceeding," says  Gait,  "  rendered  the  studies  of  the  best 
part  of  the  artist's  life  useless,  and  deprived  him  of  that 
honorable  provision,  the  fruit  of  his  talents  and  industry, 
on  which  he  had  counted  for  the  repose  of  his  declining 
years.  For  some  time  it  affected  him  deeply,  and  he  was 
at  a  loss  what  steps  to  take.  At  last,  however,  on  reflect- 
ing on  the  marked  friendship  and  favor  which  the  King 
had  always  shown  him,  he  addressed  to  his  Majesty  a 
letter,  of  which  the  following  is  a  copy  of  the  rough 
draught,  being  the  only  one  preserved."  After  mention- j 
ing  the  message  to  suspend  the  paintings  of  the  chapel, 
it  proceeds — 

"  Since  1797  I  have  finished  three  pictures,  begun 
several  others,  and  composed  the  remainder  of  the  sub- ; 
jects  for  the  chapel,  on  the  progress  of  Revealed  Religion. 
Those  are  subjects  so  replete  with  dignity  of  character 
and  expression,  as  demanded  the  historian,  the  commen- 
tator, and  the  accomplished  painter  to  bring  them  into 
view.  Your  Majesty's  gracious  commands  for  my  pencil 
on  that  extensive  subject  stimulated  my  humble  abilities, 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  ^ 

and  I  commenced  the  work  with  zeal  aud  enthusiasm. 
Animated  by  your  commands,  I  burned  my  midnight 
lamp  to  attain  that  polish  which  marks  my  scriptural 
pictures.  Your  Majesty's  zeal  for  religion  and  love  for 
the  elegant  arts  are  known  over  the  civilized  world,  and 
your  protection  of  my  pencil  had  given  it  celebrity,  and 
made  mankind  anxiously  look  for  the  completion  of  the 
great  work  on  Revealed  Religion.  In  the  station  which 
I  fill  in  the  Academy  I  have  been  zealous  in  promoting 
merit;  ingenious  artists  have  received  my  ready  aid,  and 
my  galleries  and  my  purse  have  been  opened  to  their 
studies  and  their  distresses.  The  breath  of  envy  or  the 
whisper  of  detraction  never  defiled  my  lips,  nor  the  want 
of  morality  my  character ;  and  your  Majesty's  virtues 
and  those  of  her  Majesty  have  been  the  theme  of  my 
admiration  for  many  years. 

"  I  feel  with  great  concern  the  suspension  of  the  work 
on  Revealed  Religion  ;  if  it  is  meant  to  be  permanent, 
myself  and  the  fine  arts  have  much  to  lament.  To  me 
it  will  be  ruinous  and  it  will  damp  the  hope  of  patronage 
in  the  more  refined  departments  of  painting.  I  have 
this  consolation,  that  in  the  thirty-five  years  during  which 
my  pencil  has  been  honored  with  your  commands,  a  great 
body  of  historical  and  scriptural  works  have  been  placed 
in  the  churches  and  palaces  of  the  kingdom.  Their 
professional  claims  may  be  humble,  but  similar  works 
have  not  been  executed  before  by  any  of  your  Majesty's 
subjects.  And  this  I  will  assert,  that  your  commands 
and  patronage  were  not  laid  on  a  lazy  or  an  ungrateful 
man,  or  an  undutiful  subject." 

This  letter  was  sent  to  Court  the  26th  September, 
1801,  but  West  received  no  answer. 

"  On  his  Majesty's  recovery,  he  sought  and  obtained 


IQQ  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

a  private  audience.  The  King  had  not  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  order  for  suspending  the  works,  nor  had 
he  received  the  letter.  *  Go  on  with  your  work,  West,' 
said  the  King,  kindly,  '  go  on  with  the  pictures,  and  I 
will  take  care  of  you.'  He  shook  him  by  the  hand  and 
dismissed  him.  *  And  this,'  says  Gait,  '  was  the  last  in- 
terview he  was  permitted  to  have  with  his  early  and  con- 
stant, and  to  him  truly  royal,  patron.  But  he  continued 
to  execute  the  pictures,  and,  in  the  usual  quarterly  pay- 
ments, received  his  £1000  per  annum  till  his  Majesty's 
final  superannuation,  when,  without  any  intimation  what- . 
ever,  on  calling  to  receive  it,  he  was  told  that  it  had  been 
stopped,  and  that  the  paintings  for  the  Chapel  of  Re- 
vealed Religion  had  been  suspended.  He  submitted  in 
silence. 

"  The  story  of  his  dismissal  from  Court  was  spread 
with  many  exaggerations ;  and  the  malevolence  of  ene- 
mies which  his  success  had  created — there  are  always 
such  reptiles — was  gratified  by  the  circulation  of  papers 
detailing  an  account  of  the  prices  which  the  fortunate 
painter  had  received  for  his  works  from  the  King.  The 
hand  which  had  drawn  up  this  injurious  document,  neg- 
lected to  state  that  the  sum  of  thirty-four  thousand  one 
hundred  and  eighty-seven  pounds,  was  earned  in  the 
course  of  thirty-three  laborious  years,  and  the  public, 
looking  only  to  the  sum  at  the  bottom  of  the  page, 
imagined  that  West  must  have  amassed  a  fortune.  This 
notion  was  dispelled  by  an  accurate  statement  of  work 
done  and  money  received  with  day  and  date,  signed  with 
the  artist's  name,  and  accompanied  by  a  formal  declara- 
tion of  its  truth ;  a  needless  addition,  for  all  who  knew 
any  thing  of  West,  knew  him  to  be  one  of  the  most 
honorable  of  men." 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  JQJ 

If  all  sovereigns  were  as  amiable,  as  firm  and  as 
generous  as  George  the  Third,  Royal  patronage  would 
be  sometimes  worth  having.  But  there  is  little  doubt 
West  would  have  won  a  higher  fame,  and  been  a  richer 
man,  if  he  had  confided  in  the  British  people.  No  one 
probably  would  have  given  him  a  thousand  guineas  for 
*  Regulus,'  before  it  was  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Gallery. 
But  he  would  never  have  imprisoned  himself  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  in  the  most  exhausting  and  labori- 
ous toil,  over  the  execution  of  a  series  of  great  Historical 
pieces  that  men  of  his  own  times  never  would  have  ap- 
preciated ;  for  men  of  taste  would  have  given  him  com- 
missions for  smaller,  but  more  varied  and  popular  works, 
which  would  have  made  him  beloved  by  the  million,  as 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  has  been  since.  He  would  then 
have  known  how  firm  was  his  foundation  :  a  King  might 
have  '  lost  his  senses,'  but  the  painter  would  still  have 
had  friends,  whose  attachment  would  have  been  lasting, 
and  whose  favors  would  neither  have  excited  the  envy 
of  rivals,  nor  been  purchased  at  the  sacrifice  of  a  feeling 
of  personal  independence. 

The  history  of  Artists  and  Scholars  abounds  in  sad 
and  touching  incidents,  which  show  how  fatal  the  pa- 
tronage of  the  powerful  has  generally  been.  The  fickle- 
ness of  royal  favor  can  be  illustrated  only  by  the  caprice 
of  fortune.  Long  waiting  in  antechambers,  cold  neg- 
lect, cutting  sarcasms,  dictations,  instructions,  hope  de- 
ferred, and  then,  to  crown  it  all,  the  close  of  life  embit- 
tered with  mortifying,  biting  recollections,  as  the  aban- 
doned favorite  goes  darkling  down  to  the  grave.  The 
Artist  or  the  Scholar  who  borrows  hope  from  the  smiles 
of  men  in  power,  will  find  that  his  fruit,  be  its  colors 
never  so  beautiful,  will  crumble  to  ashes  when  it  touches 


IQ2  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

his  lips.  '  Great  men  '  never  bestow  their  favors  upon 
any  but  those  who  are  ready  to  part  with  their  indepen- 
dence, and  generally  with  their  principles.  Frederick 
of  Prussia,  who  wrote  so  humanely  and  so  piously  his 
*  Anti-Machiavelli,'  while  he  was  Crown  Prince,  had  not 
worn  a  crown  twelve  months,  before  he  insulted  one  of 
his  best  ministers,  who  said  his  '  principles  and  his  feel- 
ings could  not  allow  him  to  follow  royal  instructions.' 
"  What  has  a  Secretary,"  replied  his  royal  patron,  "  to 
do  with  principles  or  feelings  ?  " 

This  was  the  only  misfortune,  the  only  false  step  in 
the  life  of  West.  1  have  dwelt  upon  it  longer  than  may 
seem  necessary  to  the  reader,  but  it  seems  to  me  to 
teach  an  impressive  lesson  worth  remembering.  The 
Painter  '  withdrew  from  the  torrent  of  calumny,'  to  use 
the  fine  language  of  Alfieri,  '  and  let  it  foam  angrily 
against  the  pillar  of  his  fame.'  The  Peace  of  Amiens 
had  silenced  for  a  time  the  roar  of  hostile  cannon  over 
Europe,  and  he  went  over  to  Paris,  where  Napoleon 
had  gathered  the  chef  d'oeuvres  of  the  world.  The 
best  Artists,  the  most  exquisite  connoisseurs  of  Eu- 
rope were  there.  West  was  received  with  enthusiasm 
and  invited  to  an  audience  with  the  First  Consul.  He 
had  the  simple  independence  to  recommend  Napoleon  to 
follow  the  example  of  Washington.  How  much  that 
great  man  would  have  saved  the  world  and  himself,  had 
he  regarded  this  counsel ! 

Fox  and  Baring  met  West  one  day  in  the  Louvre, 
where  conversations  took  place  on  the  importance  of  na- 
tions encouraging  the  higher  departments  of  Art.  Fox 
seemed  to  be  struck  with  West's  views,  and  replied  with 
much  frankness,  and  with  that  sincerity  which  lasts  at 
least  for  the  moment,  "  I  have  been  rocked  in  the  cradle 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


103 


of  politics,  and  never  before  was  so  much  struck  iVith 
the  advantages,  even  in  a  political  bearing,  of  the  Fine 
Arts,  to  the  prosperity  as  well  as  to  the  renown  of  a 
kingdom ;  and  I  do  assure  you,  Mr.  West,  if  ever  I  have 
it  in  my  power  to  influence  our  government  to  promote 
the  Arts,  the  conversation  which  we  have  had  to-day 
shall  not  be  forgotten."  They  parted,  and  West  return- 
ed to  England. 

"  Old  age  was  now  coming  on  him  ;  but  his  gray 
hairs  were  denied  the  repose  which  a  life  of  virtue  and 
labor  deserved.  He  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  was 
looked  upon  coldly  by  the  government  for  his  admiration 
of  Buonaparte  ;  and,  assailed  in  the  Academy  by  an  op- 
position strong  in  numbers  and  in  eloquence,  in  which 
Shee  distinguished  himself,  he  was  induced  to  retire  from 
the  President's  chair,  and  Wyatt  was  elected  in  his 
stead.  This  distinction  the  court  architect  had  merited 
by  no  works  which  could  be  weighed  in  the  balance  with 
the  worst  of  his  predecessor's." 

But  the  triumph  of  his  enemies  was  transient.  "  In 
a  short  time  the  Academy  became  weary  of  Wyatt,  dis- 
placed him  and^  restored  the  painter,  by  a  Vote  which 
may  be  called  unanimous;  since  there  was  only  one  dis- 
senting member."  It  appears  that  Fuseli  put  in  the 
name  of  Mrs.  Moser,  for  President;  poor  Fuseli  thought 
he  had  done  quite  a  funny  thing ! 

"  Restored  to  a  prouder  eminence  now  than  he  had 
ever  held  before.  West  devoted  himself  with  earnestness 
to  the  advancement  of  High  Art  in  England.  He  en- 
deavored '  to  form  a  National  Association,  for  the  en- 
couragement of  works  of  dignity  and  importance,  and 
was  cheered  with  the  assurance  of  ministerial,  if  not 


\ 

*^%     ,104  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

rojkl  patronage.'     But  all  such  reliance  was  vain.     Mr. 
Pitt  was  busy  enough  in  his  great  experiment  of 

'  Piloting  the  ship  through  the  storm 

By  putting  her  head  under  water.' 

'i' 
"  Mr.  Fox,  who  succeeded  him,  declared,  '  as  soon  as 
I  am  firmly  seated  in  the  saddle,  I  shall  redeem  the  pro- 
mise I  made  in  the  Louvre ;'  but  he  also  was  soon  lost 
to  his  country.  This  pistol  of  an  assassin  prevented 
Percival  from  taking  into  consideration  a  third  memorial 
which  West  had  drawn  up,  and  the  President  at  last 
relinquished  the  project  in  despair.  Yet  his  efforts  were 
not  unavailing,  as  the  British  institution  was  formed  out 
of  the  wreck  of  his  magnificent  plan."^^  This  was  the 
second  Institution  for  Art  which  England  owed  to  West ! 
The  veteran  painter  was  now  in  his  sixty-fifth  year. 
Martin  Arthur  Shee  mentions  it  to  the  discredit  of.  Great 
Britain,  that  *  the  unremitting  exertions  of  this  distin- 
guished artist  in  the  higher  department  of  painting  dur- 
ing the  period  of  forty-eight  years  had  not,  exclusive  of 
His  Majesty's  patronage,  produced  him  the  sum  of  six 
thousand  pounds  ! ! !'  But  he  determined  to  try  what 
could  be  done  by  relying  upon  the  British  people.  He 
commenced  a  series  of  great  subjects  of  which  he  was 
always  so  fond.  The  first  was  '  Christ  Healing  the 
Sick,'  designed  'as  a  present  to  the  Hospital  of  the 
Metropolis  of  Pennsylvania,  his  native  State.  A  noble 
memorial  of  his  love  to  the  country  of  his  birth,  and  her 
institutions,'  This  work  was  exhibited  in  London — 
*  the  rush  to  see  it  was  very  great — the  praise  it  obtained 
was  high,  and  the  British  Institution  offered  him  three 
thousand  guineas  for  it.     West  accepted  the  offer,  for  he 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  JQ5 

was  far  from  being  rich, — but  on  condition  he  should  be 
allowed  to  make  a  copy,  with  alterations,  for  his  native 
place.'  The  proposition  was  accepted — and  alterations 
were  not  only  made,  but  an  additional  group  embraced 
in  the  copy — with  no  manifest  improvement,  it  is  thought. 

Dunlap  complains  bitterly,  and  with  great  justice  too, 
if  he  is  right  in  his  facts,  of  the  ungenerous  conduct  of 
the  managers  of  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital,  in  regard  to 
this  picture.  West  had  expressed  his  wish  and  intention 
to  the  managers,  that  it  might  be  free  to  Students  and 
Artists  to  copy.  '  It  is  the  only  exhibition,'  says  Dunlap, 
*  where  money  is  received  from  the  Artist  or  Student.' 

West  ftlt  encouraged  by  the  success  of  the  Heal- 
ing in  the  Temple,  and  he  "  produced  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, the  *  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  the  Jordan,'  ten 
feet  by  fourteen — '  The  Crucifixion,'  sixteen  feet  by 
twenty-eight — *  The  Ascension,'  twelve  feet  by  eighteen 
— and  '  The  Inspiration  of  St.  Peter,'  of  corresponding 
extent — the  great  painting  of  *  Christ  Rejected,'  and 
the  still  more  sublime  '  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse,'  en- 
larged and  altered  from  the  picture  which  he  had  carried 
to  Paris  in  1802." 

"  As  old  age  benumbed  his  faculties,  and  began  to 
freeze  up  the  well-spring  of  original  thought,  the  daring 
intrepidity  of  the  man  seemed  but  to  grow  and  augment. 
Immense  pictures,  embracing  topics  which  would  have 
alarmed  loftier  spirits,  came  crowding  thick  upon  his 
fancy,  and  he  was  the  only  person  who  appeared  insen- 
sible that  such  were  too  weightv  for  his  handling." 

"  Domestic  sorrow  mingled  with  professional  disap- 
pointment. Elizabeth  Shewell — for  more  than  fifty 
years  his  kind  and  tender  companion — died  on  the  6th 
of  December,  1817,  and  West,  seventy-nine  years  old, 


1^  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

felt  that  he  was  soon  to  follow.  His  wife  and  he  had 
loved  each  other  some  sixty  years — had  seen  their  chil- 
dren's children — and  the  world  had  no  compensation  to 
offer.  He  began  to  sink,  and  though  still  to  be  found  at 
his  easel,  his  hand  had  lost  its  early  alacrity.  It  was 
evident  that  all  this  was  to  cease  soon  ;  that  he  was  suf- 
fering a  slow,  and  a  general,  and  easy  decay.  The 
venerable  old  man  sat  in  his  study  among  his  favorite 
pictures,  a  breathing  image  of  piety  and  contentment, 
awaiting  calmly  the  hour  of  his  dissolution.  Without 
any  fixed  complaint,  his  mental  faculties  unimpaired,  his 
cheerfulness  uneclipsed,  and  with  looks  serene  and  be- 
nevolent, he  expired  11th  March,  1820,  in  tfte  eighty- 
second  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  beside  Reynolds, 
Opie,  and  Barry,  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  The  pall  was 
borne  by  noblemen,  ambassadors,  and  academicians ;  his 
two  sons  and  grandson  were  chief  mourners ;  and  sixty 
coaches  brought  up  the  splendid  procession." 

It  would  be  nearly  a  useless  labor  to  enumerate  all 
West's  historical  pictures.  Blackwood's  Magazine  says 
he  painted  more  than  three  thousand  pictures,  and  Dun-' 
lap  says,  it  was  ascertained  that  to  contain  all  West's 
pictures,  a  gallery  would  be  necessary  four  hundred  feet 
long,  fifty  broad,  and  forty  high  !" — or  a  wall  ten  feet 
high,  and  three  quarters  of  a  mile  long !  One  of  his 
Biographers  in  speaking  of  the  subjects  he  chose,  says, 
"  He  considered  himself  worthy  to  follow  in  the  sublim- 
est  flights  of  the  prophets,  and  dared  to  limn  the  efful- 
gence of  God's  glory,  and  the  terrors  of  the  Day  of 
Judgment.  The  mere  list  of  his  works  makes  us  shud- 
der at  human  presumption.  Moses  receiving  the  Law 
on  Sinai — the  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  Savior 
in  the  Jordan — the  Opening  of  the  Seventh  Seal  in  the 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  IQy 

Revelations — Saint  Michael  and  his  Angels  casting  out 
the  Great  Dragon — the  mighty  Angel  with  one  foot  on 
sea  and  the  other  on  earth — the  Resurrection ! — and 
there  are  many  others  of  the  same  class !  With  such 
magnificence  and  sublimity  who  but  a  Michael  Angelo 
could  cope  ?" 

"  In  all  his  works  the  human  form  was  exhibited  in 
conformity  to  academic  precepts — his  figures  were  ar- 
ranged with  skill — the  coloring  was  varied  and  harmo- 
nious— the  eye  rested  pleased  on  the  performance,  and 
the  Artist  seemed,  to  the  ordinary  spectator,  to  have 
done  his  task  like  one  of  the  highest  of  the  sons  of 
genius.  But  below  all  this  splendor  there  was  little  of 
the  true  vitality — there  was  a  monotony,  too,  of  human 
character — the  groupings  were  unlike  the  happy  and 
careless  combinations  of  nature,  and  the  figures  seemed 
distributed  over  the  canvas  by  line  and  measure,  like 
trees  in  a  plantation.  He  wanted  fire  and  imagination 
to  be  the  true  restorer  of  that  grand  style  which  bewil- 
dered Barry  and  was  talked  of  by  Reynolds.  Most  of 
his  works — cold,  formal,  bloodless,  and  passionless,  may 
remind  the  spectator  of  the  sublime  vision  of  the  valley 
of  dry  bones,  when  the  flesh  and  skin  had  come  upon 
the  skeletons,  and  before  the  breath  of  God  had  inform- 
ed them  with  life  and  feeling." 

"  Though  such  is  the  general  impression  which  the 
works  of  West  make,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  many  are 
distinguished  by  great  excellence.  In  his  Death  on  the 
Pale  Horse,  and  more  particularly  in  the  sketch  of  that 
picture,  he  has  more  than  approached  the  masters  and 
princes  of  the  calling.  It  is,  indeed,  irresistibly  fearful 
to  see  the  triumphant  march  of  the  terrific  phantom,  and 
the  dissolution  of  all  that  earth  is  proud  of  beneath  his 


]Qg  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

tread.  War  and  peace,, sorrow  and  joy,  youth  and  age, 
all  who  love,  and  all  who  hate,  seem  planet-struck.  The 
Death  of  Wolfe,  too,  is  natural  and  noble,  and  the  In- 
dian chief,  like  the  Oneida  warrior  of  Campbell, 

A  stoic  of  the  woods,  a  man  without  a  tear, 

was  a  happy  thought.  The  battle  of  La  Hogue  I  have 
heard  praised  as  the  best  historic  picture  of  the  British 
school,  by  one  not  likely  to  be  mistaken,  and  who  would 
not  say  what  he  did  not  feel.  Many  of  his  single  figures, 
also,  are  of  a  high  order.  There  is  a  natural  grace  in 
the  looks  of  some  of  his  women  which  few  painters  have 
ever  excelled. 

Nearly  one  hundred  of  his  pictures  were  exhibited  in 
'  a  Gallery,  erected  by  his  heirs.'  There  are  some  of 
his  beautiful  works  of  which  his  biographers  have  said 
little,  which  seem  to  me  to  have  merited  more  attention. 
I  shall  briefly  enumerate  some  of  them  :  '  Thetis  bring- 
ing the  Armor  to  Achilles,'  is  a  work  of  great  beauty, 
in  the  possession  of  Thomas  Hope,  Esq.,  England. 
The  scene  is  taken  from  the  12th  Book  of  the  Iliad. 
"  In  this  picture,"  says  Haydon,  "  the  eyes  behold  what 
the  imagination  has  often  fancied  with  enthusiasm ;  such 
is  the  impression  here  made  by  the  graceful  form  of 
Thetis,  as  she  bends  with  sympathetic  respect  and  ma- 
ternal tenderness  over  her  son,  and  such  is  the  eflfect 
produced  by  the  energetic  graces  of  Achilles,  by  his  deep 
dejection  at  the  death  of  his  friend,  his  inflexible  resent- 
ment, the  pathetic  prostration  of  Patroclus,  and  by  the 
pervading  truth,  beauty  and  animation  of  the  entire 
piece." 

'  The  Captive '  is  a  mournful,  but  impressive  piece, 
drawn  from  '  Sterne's  Sentimental  Journey.'     <'  I  took  a 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  109 

single  captive,  and  having  first  shut  him  up  in  his  dun- 
geon, I  then  looked  through  the  twilight  of  his  grand 
door  to  take  his  picture."  And  there  leans  the  haggard 
wretch,  loaded  with  ponderous  chains,  chafing  away 
time.  He  has  marked  nine  sticks.  You  see  the  notches 
as  they  lean  against  the  damp  wall — four  others  lay 
before  him,  which  he  will  mark  over,  for  he  has  taken 
one  in  his  hand  : — and  yet  he  does  not  see  the  stick — his 
hands  lean  and  bony,  are  working  at  it,  mechanically, 
while  his  mind  is  riveted  with  iron  grasp  upon  vacu- 
ity. You  see  the  horror-stricken  face  of  the  gazer 
through  the  grate.  The  Captive's  finger  and  toe  nails 
are  grown  long  and  half  curled  down,  and  his  snaky 
tangled  locks  make  you  think  of  the  head  of  Medusa. 
"  What  particularly  strikes  the  feelings,"  says  Haydon, 
"  while  it  tells  in  the  most  complete  manner  the  story  of 
the  prisoner's  former  condition  and  present  misery,  is  the 
size  of  the  bones,  contrasted  with  the  shrinking  and 
daily  waste  of  the  muscles :  the  living  flesh  is  departing, 
and  the  skeleton  already  anticipating  the  grave."  Such 
is  *  The  Captive,'  and  if  it  be  not  well  done,  Byron  must 
write  over  once  mor^  *  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon.' 

*The   Despair  of  Venus  over   the    dead    body  of 
Adonis.'     Shakspeare  gave  him  the   picture,  where  he 

says — 

*  Franticly  she  doteth  ; 
She  thinks  he  could  not  die,  he  is  not  dead,'  etc. 

"  Mr.  West  has  chosen  the  time  when  the  Goddess  has 
just  discovered  her  loss,  and  bursts  out  into  a  despairing 
lamentation  at  the  sight.  The  eye  follows  with  delight 
the  elegantly  flowing  lines  of  all  the  figures,  in  their 
continuity,  contrast,  and  delicate  variation.  *  *  The 
agony  of  Venus   finishes  the  climax.     It  is  character- 


no 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


ized  with  an  energy  that  absorbs  every  other  thought, 
but  without  deteriorating  in  the  slightest  degree  that 
winding  elegance  and  native  sweetness  of  air  which 
are  the  inseparable  charms  of  the  Queen  of  Beauty  and 
of  Love.  The  picture  is  altogether  a  lovely  one, — busy 
without  confusion,  and  impassioned  without  affectation." 
No  man  who  had  gazed  on  this  piece  would  ever  repeat 
the  old  charge,  that  West  '  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing  as  ideal  beauty  and  grace.' 

*  Priam  Petitioning  Achilles  for  the  body  of  Hector ' 
is  a  bold  and  noble  delineation  of  even  the  coloring  of 
Homer's  fancy,  when  he  describes,  in  his  twenty-fourth 
Book  of  the  Iliad,  this  impressive  scene.  "  Priam  had 
entered  the  inner  tent  of  Achilles  unseen  by  the  attend- 
ants, and,  prostrating  himself  before  the  hero,  embraced 
his  knees,  kissed  his  hands,  and  commenced  a  petition 
which  softened  the  vindictive  soul  of  Achilles  with  pity 
for  the  miseries  of  the  aged  monarch,  who  was  reduced 
thus  lowly  to  sue  his  enemy,  and  to  kiss  '  those  terrible 
murderous  hands  that  had  robbed  him  of  so  many  sons 
— that  had  slain  his  sulyects  and  ruined  his  family  and 
kingdom.'  The  painter  has  expressed,  to  the  extent 
that  the  pencil  is  competent  to  portray,  this  humiliating 
and  pathetic  imploring  of  an  aged  father  for  a  favor  from 
his  greatest  enemy." 

*  Alexander's  Confidence  in  the  Integrity  of  his 
Physician.'  This  is  a  noble  work ;  filled  with  the  dig- 
nity of  the  theme  the  painter  chose — but  we  have  not 
space  for  a  description  of  it. 

'  The  Cave  of  Despaire '  is  one  of  West's  most  original 
works.  He  drew  his  subject  and  arrangement  from  the 
masterly  description  of  Spencer  in  his  Faerie  Queene. 
"  A  deprivation,"  says  Haydon  again,  "  of  all  hope,  a 


BENJAMIN  WEST.  |  j  | 

horror  and  loathing  of  existence,  bows  the  '  man  of  hell ' 
to  the  ground.  Nothing  is  wanting  to  complete  the 
picture  of  Despaire  in  its  most  direful  effects." 

'  The  Alarm  of  Nestor  at  the  Lightning  which  pre- 
cedes Hector.'     Iliad,  eighth  Book. 

*  Thus  said  the  chief;  and  Nestor,  skilled  in  war, 
Approves  his  counsel  and  ascends  the  car,'  etc. 

This  solemn  incident,  which  has  furnished  Homer  one 
of  his  finest  themes,  is  portrayed  by  West's  pencil  in 
a  masterly  manner.  '  Leaving  the  plebeian  war  in  the 
background,  the  Chieftains,  Diomede  and  Hector,  are 
advancing  toward  each  other,  in  the  consciousness  of 
being  able  to  settle  the  day's  combat  without  wasting 
their  strength  on  inferior  objects.  It  was,  however,  one 
of  the  days  of  Hector's  glory,  and  Diomede  was  des- 
tined to  advance  in  vain.'  For  he  had  something  more 
than  mortal  strength  to  contend  with.  Across  his  path 
the  lightnings  of  Heaven  are  gleaming.  This  is  the 
moment  the  painter  has  chosen.  Diomede  becomes  the 
hero  of  the  piece,  for  he  is  not  only  struggling  against 
Homer's  great  hero,  who  finds  no  vanquisher  at  last  but 
Achilles,  but  he  is  struggling  against  supernatural  fire ! 
The  thunder  is  shaking  the  field  of  battle,  and  "  the 
horses  are  rearing  at  the  flames  that  dart  in  their  faces : 
old  Nestor,  whom,  at  the  approach  of  Hector,  Diomede 
had  taken  into  his  chariot,  and  who  had  undertaken  to 
manage  the  reins,  finds  the  task  impossible,  and  is  seized 
with  a  <  sacred  dread,'  and,  in  fine.  Hector  by  these 
awful  signs  is  coming  up  to  sweep  every  thing  before 
him ;  yet  Diomede  for  the  moment  still  remains  unap- 
palled,  and,  lifting  his  shield  over  his  head,  as  if  to  meet 


J  J^  BENJAMIN  WEST. 

all  the  terrors  that  might  assail  him,  grasps  the  javelin 
with  a  double  energy  for  the  combat." 

'  Venus  Rising  from  the  Sea '  is  a  chaste  and  beauti- 
ful production,  and  has  been  declared  by  many  good 
critics  to  be  equal  to  almost  any  thing  of  a  similar  kind? 
by  the  best  masters. 

In  '  Adonis  going  to  the  Chase,'  the  painter  has  su- 
perbly embodied  the  words  of  Shakspeare  : 


*  Even  as  the  Sun,  with  purple  colored  face, 
Had  ta'en  his  last  leave  of  the  weeping  morn, 
Rose-cheeked  Adonis  hied  him  to  the  chase ; 
Hunting  he  loved,  but  love  he  laughed  to  scorn.' 


a 

..%: 


'  It  was  no  ordinary  advantage  to  Mr.  West,  as  an  artist, ' 
that  his  early  years  had  been  passed  among  the  glades 
and  forests  of  America ;  a  circumstance  to  which  we 
are  perhaps  indebted  for  many  of  the  most  spirited  and" 
poetical  of  his  delineations  of  classic  character.  The 
red  men  of  the  wilderness  were,  in  fact,  his  earliest 
patrons,  and  in  his  intercourse  with  them  he  was  fur- 
nished with  opportunities  such  as  few  other  artists  have 
possessed,  of  observing  the  habits  and  passions  of  men 
in  a  state  of  society  nearly  resembling  that  of  the  my- 
thological ages  of  Greece  and  Rome.  The  lives  of  the 
Aborigines  of  both  hemispheres  were  chiefly  occupied 
in  war  and  sylvan  sports ;  pursuits  eminently  calculated 
to  impart  to  their  followers  vigor  and  elasticity  of  limb, 
and  gracefulness  of  motion,  together  with  that  noble 
simplicity  of  demeanor  and  singleness  of  heart  which 
constitute  the  greatest  charm  of  poetic  heroism.' 

This  work  has  been  overlooked  in  a  great  measure' 
by  West's  biographers,  and  yet  we  think  it  ought  to  be 
regarded    as   one   of  the   most   superb  pictures  of  its 


BENJAMIN  WEST. 


lis 


kind.  The  face  and  form  of  Adonis  are  among  the 
most  exquisite  models  of  manly  beauty,  and  in  color- 
ing, in  symmetry,  in  the  earnestness  of  actual  life  and 
unstudied  elegance,  it  seems  to  us  to  surpass  nearly  all 
West's  productions.  We  believe  this  picture  would  in 
our  times  establish  the  fame  of  any  painter. 

We  have  dwelt  upon  these  works  because  they  are 
less  known,' and  we  have  devoted  so  large  a  space  to 
West  because  he  merits  it.  He  was  the  pioneer  and 
the  father  of  American  Artists — the  sober  criticism  of 
three  generations  has  concurred  in  assigning  him  the 
first  rank  as  an  historical  painter  during  the  eighteenth 
century.  It  has  been  the  fashion  in  this  country  to  speak 
slightingly  of  West,  but  this  is  owing  to  the  fact  that 
so  few  of  his  great  pictures  are  known  to  his  countrymen, 
and  it  is  more  than  doubtful  if  any  historical  painter  of 
merit  who  has  yet  asked  for  our  suffrages  has  ever  been 
properly  appreciated. 


8 


u 


t 


4|» 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 


A  GRATEFUL  nation  guards  thy  lasting  fame, 

Thou  faithful  limner  of  His  form  sublime  ; 
Whose  deeds  transcendent  left  a  godlike  name — 

The  noblest  written  in  the  book  of  time  ! 
Unfading  on  thy  canvas  live  the  forms 

Our  fathers  wore,  now  resting  in  the  grave  ; 
They  battled  bravely,  'mid  the  wildest  storms 

That  dark  oppression  e'er  fair  freedom  gave. 
Maidens  most  beautiful,  and  matrons  chaste, 

Bright  relics  of  thy  toil  through  restless  years, 
We  proudly  gaze  on — by  the  same  hand  traced, 

That  often  wiped  away  earth's  bitter  tears. 
Crowned  in  the  Capitol,  thy  laurelled  triumphs  stand, 
Revered,  admired,  a  glorious  patriot  band  ! 

Caleb  Lyon  of  Ltonsdalb. 
New- York,  tSwcch  9,  1846. 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 


A  FEW  years  before  his  death,  Longacre  and  Nea- 
gle  visited  Stuart  at  his  residence  in  Boston,  to  receive 
instruction  from  the  veteran  Painter.  "  While  sitting 
with  him  on  one  occasion,"  says  Dunlap,  "  Mr.  Neagle 
asked  him  for  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  his  ample  box,  out 
of  which  he  was  profusely  supplying  his  own  nostrils. 
'  I  will  give  it  to  you,'  said  Stuart, '  but  I  advise  you  not 
to  take  it.  Snuff  taking  is  a  pernicious,  vile,  dirty  habit, 
and  like  all  bad  habits,  to  be  carefully  avoided.'  '  Your 
practice  contradicts  your  precept,  Mr.  Stuart.'  '  Sir,  / 
can't  help  it.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story  ?  You  were  nei- 
ther of  you  ever  in  England,  so  I  must  describe  an  Eng- 
lish stage-coach  of  my  time.  It  was  a  large  vehicle  of 
the  coach  kind,  with  a  railing  round  the  top,  to  secure 
outside  passengers,  and  a  basket  behind  for  luggage, 
and  such  travellers  as  could  not  be  elsewhere  accommo- 
dated. In  such  a  carriage,  full  within  and  loaded  on  the 
top,  and  an  additional  unfortunate  stowed  with  the  stuff 
in  the  basket,  I  happened  to  be  travelling  in  a  dark 
night,  when  coachee  contrived  to  overturn  us  all— or  as 
they  say  in  New- York,  dump  us — in  a  ditch.  We 
scrambled  up,  felt  our  legs  and  arms,  to  be  convinced  they 
were  not  broken,  and  finding  on  examination,  that  in- 
side and  outside  passengers  were  tolerably  whole  (on  the 
whole),  some  one  thought  of  the  poor  devil  shut  up  with 
the  baggage  in  the  basket.     He  was  found  apparently 


118  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

senseless,  and  his  neck  twisted  awry.  One  of  the  pas- 
sengers, who  had  heard  that  any  dislocation  might  he 
remedied,  if  promptly  attended  to,  seized  on  the  corpse 
with  a  determination  to  untwist  the  man's  neck,  and  set 
his  head  straight  on  his  shoulders.  Accordingly,  with  an 
iron  grasp  he  clutched  him  by  the  head,  and  began  pull- 
ing and  twisting  by  main  force.  He  appeared  to  have 
succeeded  miraculously  in  restoring  life,  for  the  dead  man 
no  sooner  experienced  the  first  wrench,  than  he  roared 
vociferously,  '  Let  me  alone !  let  me  alone.  I  am  not 
hurt ;  I  was  born  so.'  '  Gentlemen,'  added  Stuart,  *  I 
was  born  so ' — and  taking  an  enormous  pinch  of  snuff 
— '  I  was  born  in  a  snuff-mill.' " 

This  was  true,  in  part.  His  father  was  a  Scotch- 
man, who  came  over  to  Nantucket,  at  the  invitation  of 
Dr.  Thomas  Moffat,  to  build  a  snuff-mill.  This  Doctor 
was  a  learned  man,  but  not  succeeding  in  his  profession 
as  he  wished,  he  resolved  to  establish  a  manufactory  of 
snuff 'to  supply  the  place  of  the  great  quantity  that  was 
every  year  imported  from  Glasgow.  The  mill-wright 
'  married  a  beautiful  woman,  daughter  of  a  substantial 
yeoman,  the  cultivator  of  his  own  soil,  by  name  Antho- 
ny. Of  this  happy  .couple  was  born  Gilbert  Charles 
Stuart,'  in  the  year  1754. 

Dr.  Waterhouse  was  a  school  companion  of  Stuart. 
He  says  '  he  was  a  very  capable,  self-willed  boy,  who, 
perhaps  on  that  account,  was  indulged  in  every  thing, 
being  an  only  son,  handsome  and  forward,  and  habitua- 
ted at  home  to  have  his  own  way  in  every  thing,  with 
little  or  no  control  from  the  easy  good-natured  father. 
He  was  about  thirteen  years  old  when  he  began  to  copy 
pictures,  and  at  length  attempted  likenesses  in  black 
lead,  in  which  he  succeeded.' 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  jj^ 

Another  Scotchman,  it  appears,  '  happened  along 
Newport,'  who  called  himself  an  Artist,  and  '  painted 
up  '  most  of  the  '  upper  ten  thousand  '  of  Rhode  Island. 
He  was  pleased  with  young  Stuart,  and  enticed  him 
off  with  him  to  Scotland,  where  the  Scot  died,  leav- 
ing the  painter  in  the  hands  of  somebody  who  treated 
him  pretty  roughly.  He  was  put  aboard  a  'collier 
bound  to  Nova-Scotia,'  and  worked  his  passage  home. 
He  was  now  about  twenty  years  old,  and  he  had  some 
experience  to  begin  the  world  with.  Such  '  hard  fare  ' 
in  early  life  never  hurts  men  like  Stuart.  There  was  a 
moral  in  the  custom  of  the  Scandinavians,  who  greeted 
the  new-born  child  with  a  cold  bath  on  his  first  entrance 
into  the  world.  If  he  could  stand  that  experiment,  they 
thought  his  chance  was  pretty  good  for  the  hard  knocks 
of  life — and  it  probably  was. 

He  got  on  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  washed  off  the  '  coal 
dust,'  and  went  to  painting.  Dr.  Waterhouse  says  *  he 
was  fully  aware  of  the  great  importance  of  the  art  of 
drawing  with  anatomical  exactness,  and  took  vast  pains 
to  attain  it.'  The  two  who  studied  together,  prevailed 
on  a  *  strong-muscled  blacksmith  '  to  sit  for  them  in  their 
studio,  as  a  model,  and  they  gave  the  Cyclop  half  a 
dollar  an  evening. 

One  of  his  first  portraits,  after  his  return  in  the  'col- 
lier,' was  of  his  mother,  who  had  died  some  ten  years 
before,  when  he  was  in  his  eleventh  year.  It  was  painted 
from,  recollection^  and  yet  so  striking  was  the  likeness, 
his  uncle  from  Philadelphia  recognized  it  the  moment 
he  entered  the  room.  This  extraordinary  circumstance 
brings  into  view  some  of  Stuart's  characteristics  :  power 
of  observation,  keenness  of  perception,  rapidity  of  exe- 


12^  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

cution,  and  generous  social  feelings,  all  of  which  distin- 
guished him  through  life,  were  now  in  their  vigor. 

Mr.  Anthony,  his  uncle,  'was  proud,'  says  Water- 
house,  '  of  patronizing  his  ingenious  nephew,  after  a  cir- 
cumstance which  greatly  surprised  and  ajBfected  him, 
*and  he  employed  the  young  painter  to  make  portraits  of 
himself,  his  wife  and  two  children.  Another  gentleman 
followed  his  example,  and  several  others  sat  for  their 
single  portraits,  so  that  our  aspiring  Artist  had  as  much 
business  as  he  could  turn  his  hands  to,  and  the  buoyancy 
of  his  spirits  kept  pace  with  his  good  fortune.  He  never 
had,  however,  that  evenness  of  spirits  which  marked  and 
dignified  the  characters  of  our  countrymen,  Benjamin 
West,  and  John  Singleton  Copley.  With  Stuart,  it  was 
either  high-tide  or  low-tide.  In  London  he  would  some- 
times lay  a-bed  for  weeks  waiting  for  the  tide  to  lead, 
him  on  to  fortune, — while  Copley  and  West  had  the 
industry  of  ants  before  they  attained  the  treasure  of 
bees.' 

The  Redwood  Library  of  Newport,  sent  their  com- 
mittee to  Stuart  to  commission  '  a  full-length  portrait  of 
its  generous  founder,  Abraham  Redwood  ;  then  living 
next  door  to  the  painter,  for  which  the  Artist  would  have 
had  a  generous  reward.'  But  Stuart  would  not  paint 
Abraham  Redwood,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself! 

Stuart's  love  for  painting  was  the  love  of  an  enthusi- 
ast, but  his  early  friend  says  that  "  music  divided  his  af- 
fection so  equally  with  his  sister,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
say  which  was  the  ruling  passion.  He  became  enam- 
oured with  music,  in  which  he  made  remarkable  progress 
without  any  other  master  than  his  own  superior  genius. 
He  once  attempted  to  enrapture  me  by  a  newly  studied 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  |21 

classical  composition  of  his  own ;  I  exerted  all  the  kind 
attention  I  could  muster  up  for  the  occasion,  until  his 
sharp  eye  detected  by  my  physiognomy  that  I  did  not 
much  relish  it.  He  colored,  sprang  up  in  a  rage,  and 
striding  back  and  forth  the  floor,  vociferated :  '  You  have 
no  more  taste  for  music  than  a  jackass !  and  it  is  all 
owing  to  your  stupid  Quaker  education.' 

Stuart's  fondness  for  music  made  him  a  proficient  on 
a  variety  of  instruments,  and  he  also  composed  pieces 
himself.  He  seems  to  have  been  gifted  with  the  loftiest 
and  best  impulses  of  genius — whole  days  he  passed  in 
reading  to  his  sister,  in  walking  with  her  in  the  fields ; 
whole  nights  in  playing  the  flute  under  her  window — 
he  never  came  home  from  his  rambles  in  the  country 
without  bringing  her  wild  flowers.  He  had  a  kind  of 
wild,  wayward  life,  made  up  of  gleams  of  light  and 
thick  clouds,  of  shadows  and  sunshine ;  and  yet  he 
loved  music,  and  it  soothed  him  when  he  was  sad — and 
when  he  was  half  forsaken  he  used  to  think  and  talk  of 
that  sister  ;  and  when  all  was  bright  around  him,  for  he 
was  sometimes  as  happy  as  we  ever  can  be  in  a 
'  naughty  world,'  he  took  up  his  pencil  and  dashed  away 
'  like  Jehu ;'  and  when  such  men  as  Reynolds  looked  at 
his  pictures  painted  in  this  mood,  they  said  the  lines 
were  '  gleams  of  sunshine,  all  light,  in  the  midst  of  deep 
shadows.' 

Stuart  exhausted  all  there-  was  of  the  Newport 
patronage  he  cared  for,  in  a  short  time,  and  then  made 
up  his  mind  he  would  go  to  London  and  see  if  he  could 
not  be  a  paintier,  as  West  had  become,  with  some  hope, 
vague  enough,  perhaps,  about  the  future,  with  dreams 
of  Whittington  cats  and  other  things ;  for  Stuart  always 


122  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

said  he  should  be  rich  some  day,  in  spite  of  spunging 
houses. 

Dr.  Waterhouse  says  that  '  Stuart  was  shut  up  in 
Boston  when  the  first  blood  was  spilt  at  Lexington, 
April  19th,  1775,  and  escaped  from  it  about  ten  days 
before  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.'  He  seems  to  have 
made  his  escape  from  Boston  to  Norfolk  first,  where  it 
is  likely  he  remained  some  weeks,  for,  '  leaving  Boston 
the  seventh  or  eighth  of  June,  he  certainly  did  not  need 
all  the  time  till  the  last  of  November  in  sailing  to  Lon- 
don. He  seems  to  have  taken  with  him  a  full  stock  of 
poverty,  enthusiasm,  and  hope — a  painter's  capital ! 
Poor  fellow !  He  expected  to  find  Waterhouse  in 
London,  who  would  have  helped  him,  but  he  was  gone 
off  to  Edinburgh,  and  so  he  found  himself  one  day, 
when  his  money  was  all  gone,  wandering  around  the 
'dreary  solitude'  of  London,  as  Johnson  delighted  to 
characterize  the  dreadful  hum  of  that  crowded  city.  He 
went  by  a  church  door  in  Foster  Lane,  where  he  heard 
an  organ  playing.  He  stepped  upon  the  threshold,  and 
the  '  pew-woman '  told  him,  in  answer  to  a  question 
what  was  going  on,  that  the  vestry  were  together  testing 
the  candidates  for  the  post  of  organist.  He  went  in 
boldly — asked  if  he  might  try.  He  was  told  he  could 
— he  did.  He  succeeded  ;  got  the  place,  and  a  salary 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year !  So  much  for 
his  musical  genius  he  had  cultivated  in  America  when 
wise  people  were  telling  him  he  had  better  leave  off 
serenading  girls  at  night,  (for  he- used  to  do  such  things 
— the  lady  of  a  British  officer  in  Newport  told  Trumbull, 
that  he  spent  his  last  night  he  passed  in  Newport  under 
the  window  of  a  friend  of  hers,  playing  the  flute,)  and 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 


123 


go  to  work.     It  gave  him  bread  now  in  the  swarming 
wilderness  of  London,  where  he  needed  nothing  else. 

Dr.  Waterhouse,  a  true  man,  came  down  to  London, 
and  found  lodgings  for  Stuart  near  the  house  of  some 
Quaker  relations,  and  the  Doctor  '  managed  to  keep  him 
even  with  his  landlord  and  washerwoman,  which  was 
doing  better  than  he  had  done.'  Stuart  was  not  very 
thoughtful  or  provident.  His  friends  had  to  hunt  for  him 
occasionally  in  the  spunging  house !  All  this  time,  for 
some  unknown  reason,  he  never  once  sought  the  ac- 
quaintance of  West,  but  the  moment  a  friend  called  on  the 
latter  (1778),  and  told  him  of  Stuart's  circumstances, 
he  sent  a  messenger  to  him  with  three  or  four  guineas, 
and  an  invitation  for  him  to  call  at  his  house.  '  Such 
was  Stuart's  first  introduction  to  the  man  from  whose  in- 
struction he  derived  the  most  important  advantages  from 
that  time  forward  ;  whose  character  he  always  justly  ap- 
preciated, but  whose  example  he  could  not  or  would  not 
follow.' 

Stuart  was  twenty-Zbur  years  old  when  he  entered 
the  studio  of  West.  He  had  painted,  before  this,  his 
own  portrait,  (the  only  one  he  ever  made  of  himself,)  in 
very  superior  style.  *  It  is  painted,'  says  Waterhouse, 
*in  his  freest  manner,  with  a  Rubens  hat,  and  Stuart, 
in  his  best  days,  was  not  ashamed  of  it.'  Stunrt  says, 
*  on  application  to  West  to  receive  me  as  a  pupil,  I  was 
welcomed  with  true  benevolence,  encouraged  and  taken 
into  the  family,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  attentions 
of  the  Artist  to  me — they  were  paternal.' 

Stuart  was  an  inimitable  story-teller.  "  Mr.  West," 
says  he,  "  treated  me  very  cavalierly  on  one  occasion, 
but  I  had  my  revenge.  My  old  master,  who  was  always 
called  on  to  paint  a  portrait  of  his  Majesty  for  every 


124  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

Governor  General  sent  out  to  India,  received  an  order 

for  one  of  Lord .     He  was  busily  employed  upon 

one  of  his  ten-acre  pictures,  in  company  with  prophets 
and  apostles,  and  thought  he  would  turn  over  the  King 
to  me.  He  never  could  paint  a  portrait.  '  Stuart,'  said 
he,  '  it  is  a  pity  to  make  his  Majesty  sit  again  for  his  pic- 
ture ;  there  is  the  portrait  of  him  that  you  painted ;  let 

me  have  it  for  Lord .     I  will  re-touch  it,  and  it 

will  do  well  enough.'  *  Well  enough !  very  pretty,' 
thought  I ;  '  you  might  be  civil,  when  you  ask  a  favor.' 
So  I  thought,  but  I  said,  '  Very  well,  Sir.'  So  the  pic- 
ture was  carried  down  to  his  room,  and  at  it  he  went. 
I  saw  he  was  puzzled.  He  worked  at  it  all  that  day. 
The  next  morning,  '  Stuart,'  says  he,  '  have  you  got  your 
pallet  set  ?'  '  Yes,  Sir.'  Well,  you  can  soon  set  another ; 
let  me  have  it ;  I  can't  satisfy  myself  with  that  head.'  I 
gave  him  my  pallet,  and  he  worked  the  greater  part  of 
that  day.  In  the  afternoon  I  went  into  his  room,  and 
he  was  hard  at  it.  I  saw  that  he  had  got  up  to  the  knees 
in  mud.  *  Stuart,'  says  he, '  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but 
you  have  a  way  of  managing  your  tints  unlike  every 
body  else — here, — take  the  pallet  and  finish  the  head.' 
'  I  can't,  Sir.'  *  You  can't  ?'  '  I  can't,  indeed.  Sir,  as  it 
is ;  but  let  it  stand  till  to-morrow  morning  and  get  dry, 
and  I  will  go  over  it  with  all  my  heart.'  The  picture 
was  to  go  away  the  day  after  the  morrow,  so  he  made 
me  promise  to  do  it  early  next  morning.  He  never  came 
down  into  the  painting  room  until  about  ten  o'clock. 
I  went  into  his  room  bright  and  early,  and  by  half-past 
nine  I  had  finished  the  head.  That  done,  Rafe  (Ra- 
phael West,  the  master's  son),  and  I  began  to  fence ;  I 
with  my  maul-stick,  and  he  with  his  father's.  I  had  just 
driven  Rafe  up  to  the  wall,  with  his  back  to  one  of  his 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  ]25 

father's  best  pictures,  when  the  old  gentleman,  as  neat 
as  a  lad  of  wax,  with  his  hair  powdered,  his  white  silk 
stockings  and  yellow  morocco  slippers,  popped  into  the 
room,  looking  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  a  band-box. 
We  had  made  so  much  noise  that  we  did  not  hear  him 
come  down  the  gallery,  or  open  the  door.  '  There,  you 
dog,'  says  I  to  Rafe,  *  there  I  have  you,  and  nothing  but 
your  back-ground  relieves  you.'  The  old  gentleman 
could  not  help  smiling  at  my  technical  joke,  but  soon 
looking  very  stern,  '  Mr.  Stuart,'  says  he,  for  he  always 
mistered  me  when  he  was  angry,  as  a  man's  wife  calls 
him  my  dear,  when  she  wishes  him  at  the  devil — '  Mr. 
Stuart,  is  this  the  way  you  use  me  ? '  '  Why !  what's  the 
matter.  Sir  ?  I  have  neither  hurt  the  boy,  nor  the  back- 
ground.' '  Sir,  when  you  knew  I  had  promised  that  the 
picture  of  his  Majesty  should  be  finished  to-day,  ready 
to  be  sent  away  to-morrow,  thus  to  be  neglecting  me 
and  your  promise !  How  can  you  answer  it  to  me  or  to 
yourself?'  '  Sir,'  said  I,  *  do  not  condemn  me  without 
examining  the  easel.  I  have  finished  the  picture  ;  please 
to  look  at  it.'  He  did  so ;  complimented  me  highly,  and 
I  had  ample  revenge  for  his  '  It  will  do  well  enough.' " 

There  are  a  hundred  fine  stories  told  of  this  eccentric, 
witty,  improvident,  but  noble  Stuart.  He  was  full  of 
genius,  but  he  would  not  brook  the  requisite  toil,  or  he 
would  have  made  himself  one  of  the  first  painters  of  any 
age.  One  day  the  blunt  Dr.  Johnson  came  into  West's 
Studio  and  addressed  something  to  Stuart — '  Why !  you 
speak  very  good  English,  Sir,'  said  the  Lexicographer — 
*  where  did  you  learn  it  ?'  '  Sir,'  replied  Stuart,  *  I  can 
better  tell  you  where  I  did  not  learn  it — ^it  was  not  from 
your  dictionary.'  Dr.  Johnson  had  too  much  sense  to 
be  offended. 


|2g  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

Just  before  Stuart  left  West's  Studio,  he  painted  a 
full  length  of  his  master,  which  was  exhibited  at  Somer- 
set House,  where  it  attracted  great  attention  and  elicit- 
ed high  praise. 

West  soon  saw  that  Stuart  could  paint  a  better  por- 
trait than  he,  and  he  recommended  him  to  take  rooms 
and  set  up  for  himself.  He  did  so,  and  visitors  flocked 
to  his  studio.  "  He  had  his  full  share  of  the  best  business 
in  London,  and  prices  equal  to  any,  except  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  and  Gainsborough."  Stuart  related  an  anec- 
dote of  himself  to  Mr.  Frazer,  worth  preserving.  "  Lord 
St.  Vincent,  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  and  Colonel 
Barre,  came  unexpectedly  one  morning  into  my  room, 
locked  the  door,  and  then  explained  the  intention  oi 
their  visit ;  this  was  shortly  after  my  setting  up  an  in- 
dependent easel.  They  understood  that  I  was  under 
pecuniary  embarrassments,  and  offered  me  assistance — 
which  I  declined.  They  then  said  they  would  sit  for 
their  portraits, — of  course  I  was  ready  to  serve  them. 
They  then  advised  that  I  should  make  it  a  rule  that  half- 
price  must  be  paid  at  the  first  sitting.  They  insisted  on 
setting  the  example,  and  I  followed  the  practice  ever 
after  this  delicate  mode  of  their  showing  their  friendship. 

All  who  have  written  about  Stuart,  speak  of  his  won- 
derful powers  of  conversation.  *  In  this  respect,'  says 
Waterhouse, '  he  was  inferior  to  no  man  amongst  us.  He 
made  it  a  point  to  keep  those  talking  who  were  sitting 
to  him  for  their  portraits,  each  in  their  own  way,  free 
and  easy.  This  called  up  all  his  resources  of  judgment. 
To  military  men  he  spoke  of  battles  by  sea  and  land ; 
with  the  statesman  on  Hume's  and  Gibbon's  History  ; 
with  the  lawyer  on  jurisprudence  or  remarkable  criminal 
trials  ;  with  the  merchant  in  his  way  ;  with  the  man  of 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  Vfjffj^ 

leisure,  in  his  way,  and  with  the  ladies  in  all  ways. 
When  putting  the  rich  farmer  on  the  canvas,  he  would 
go  along  with  him  from  seed-time  to  harvest-time — he 
would  descant  on  the  nice  points  of  the  horse,  ox,  cow, 
sheep,  or  pig,  and  surprise  him  with  his  just  remarks  in 
the  process  of  making  cheese  and  butter,  or  astonish 
him  with  his  profound  knowledge  of  manures  or  the 
food  of  plants.  As  to  national  and  individual  character, 
few  men  could  say  more  to  the  purpose,  as  far  as  history 
and  acute  personal  observation  would  carry  him.  He 
had  wit  at  will — always  ample,  sometimes  redundant.' 

Stuart  read  men's  characters  as  easily  as  he  read 
newspapers.  Lord  Mulgrave  employed  him  to  paint  his 
brother,  General  Phipps,  who  was  going  out  to  India. 
When  the  picture  was  done,  and  the  General  had  sailed, 
the  Earl  came  for  the  piece.  '  This  picture  looks  strange, 
Sir,'  said  the  disturbed  nobleman  !  How  is  it  ?  I  see, — 
I  think  I  see  insanity  in  that  face.'  '  It  may  be  so,'  re- 
plied Stuart,  '  but  I  painted  your  brother  as  I  saw  him.' 
The  first  account  Lord  Mulgrave  had  from  his  brother, 
was  that  his  insanity,  unknown  and  unapprehended  by 
any  of  his  friends,  had  driven  him  into  suicide ! 

Stuart  was  now  a  fashionable  and  leading  artist  in 
London.  His  pictures  occupied  the  best  lights  and  the 
most  conspicuous  places  at  the  exhibitions  of  the  Royal 
Academy.  He  was  every  where  received  with  attention, 
and  he  might  easily  have  won  a  fame  which  few  portrait 
painters  have  had  in  any  times.  But  *  he  lived  in  splen- 
dor, and  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay ;'  and  his  indulgen- 
ces and  improvidence  wearied  out  his  friends  and  good 
fortune  itself.  With  Stuart  it  was  always  a  feast  or  a 
famine.  Ordinary  luck  was  no  luck  to  him,  and  he 
was  poor  on  money  that  would  have  made  other  men 


128  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

rich.  With  a  hundred  guineas  in  his  pocket,  he  was 
a  lord  while  it  lasted,  and  when  it  was  gone  he  was  a 
devil.  One  day  he  was  dining  with  Earls,  Dukes,  and 
Princes,  the  star  of  a  brilliant  saloon, — in  twenty-four 
hours  he  was  cracking  jokes  to  his  companions  in  a 
debtor's  prison ! 

The  Duke  of  Rutland  invited  him  to  his  house  in 
Dublin.  Stuart  '  got  money  enough  together  somehow,' 
to  pay  his  passage  to  Ireland ;  but  when  he  got  there  he 
found  the  Duke  had  died  the  day  before.  If  any  body 
else  had  gone  there,  the  Duke  would  have  been  just  as 
sure  to  live,  for  something  extraordinary  must  happen 
to  Stuart,  of  course.  He  soon  got  into  the  debtor's 
prison  again ;  but  he  was  a  star  still.  He  would  not 
let  people  give  him  money.  Rich  people  and  nobles 
would  be  painted  by  him,  and  they  had  to  '  go  to  jail ' 
to  find  the  painter.  There  he  held  his  court ;  flashing 
equipages  of  Lords  and  Ladies  came  dashing  up  to 
prison,  while  their  exquisite  proprietors  waited  for  their 
first  sitting.  '  He  began,'  says  Dunlap,  '  the  pictures 
of  a  great  many  nobles  and  men  of  wealth  and  fashion, 
received  half-price  at  the  first  sitting,  accumulated 
enough  to  enfranchise  himself,  and  left  their  Irish  lord- 
ships and  gentry  imprisoned  in  effigy.  Having  thus 
liberated  himself,  and  there  being  no  law  that  would 
justify  the  jailer  in  holding  half-finished  peers  in  prison, 
the  painter  fulfilled  his  engagement  more  at  his  ease  in 
his  own  house  and  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family :  and 
it  is  probable  that  the  Irish  gentlemen  laughed  heartily 
at  the  trick,  and  willingly  paid  the  remainder  of  the 
price.' 

Stuart  married  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Coates,  in  1786. 
Miss  Stuart  says  'he  arrived  in  Dublin  in   1788,  and, 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  ,  129 

notwithstanding  the  loss  of  his  friendly  inviter,  he  met 
with  great  success;  painted  most  of  the  nobility,  and 
lived  in  a  good  deal  of  splendor.  The  love  for  his  own 
country  and  his  admiration  of  General  Washington,  and 
the  very  great  desire  he  had  to  paint  his  portrait,  was 
his  only  inducement  to  turn  his  back  on  his  good  fortune 
in  Europe.' 

Tn  1794  he  returned  to  America,  and  for  some 
months  kept  a  studio  in  '  Stone  street,  near  William,  in 
New- York,  where  all  who  admired  the  Art,  or  wished 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  Artist's  talents,  daily  resorted. 
It  appeared  to  me,'  says  Dunlap,  'as  if  I  had  never 
seen  portraits  before,  so  decidedly  was  form  and  mind 
conveyed  to  canvas ;  and  yet  Stuart's  portraits  were 
incomparably  better  ten,  twenty,  and  thirty  years  after.' 
Some  of  his  best  portraits  at  this  period,  (for  he 
painted  poor  ones  enough  when  he  painted  only  for 
money,)  were  of  Sir  John  Temple,  John  Jay,  General 
Matthew  Clarkson,  John  R.  Murray,  and  Colonel  Giles. 

With  a  letter  to  Washington  from  John  Jay,  he  went 
on  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  was  courteously  and  fa- 
miliarly received  by  the  man  whom  Botta  used  to  call 
'  the  Father  of  Freedom.'  Stuart  had  been  familiar  with 
the  highest  society  of  England,  but  he  was  embarrassed 
when  he  entered  the  room  where  Washington  was, — 
and  he  said  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  felt  awe 
in  the  presence  of  a  fellow  man. 

Stuart  was  now  gratified  in  the  accomplishment  and 
the  hope  of  years.  Washington  was  standin";  on  the 
highest  eminence  of  glory  any  man  had  yet  stood  on — 
the  gaze  of  the  world  was  fixed  steadily  upon  Him.  To 
leave  for  posterity  a  faithful  portrait  of  Him,  and  thus  ^ 
link  his  name  for^r  with  that  Great  Man's,  had  now     '  . 

9 


I3Q  ,  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

become  the  most  earnest  wish  of  Stuart's  life.  Wash- 
ington sat  for  His  portrait — Stuart  was  not  pleased 
with  his  first  attempt.  It  may  easily  be  imagined 
with  what  feelings  the  painter  was  stirred  when  he 
gazed  with  the  full  clear  earnest  eye  of  the  Artist  upon 
that  face  which  Guizot  has  declared  more  than  half  di- 
vine. It  is  a  matter  of  little  surprise  that  he  failed  on 
the  first  trial.  He  destroyed  the  picture.  Washington 
sat  again,  and  then  he  painted  as  good  a  portrait  as  ever 
was  or  can  be  painted.  There  have  been  more  beauti- 
ful pictures — brighter  lights  and  darker  shades  have  been 
thrown  in — more  gorgeous  coloring  and  '  tricks  of  art ' 
have  been  thrown  around  them — but  so  completely  did 
the  Artist  transfuse  the  features,  the  form,  and  the  very 
soul  of  Washington  to  the  canvas,  in  all  the  simplicity 
of  nature,  that  I  am  not  afraid  to  say,  it  is  the  best  por- 
trait ever  painted  in  this  country,  and  that  it  has  never 
been  surpassed  by  any  Artist  whose  works  have  come 
down  to  our  times.  'He  offered  it,'  says  Dunlap,  'to 
the  State  of  Massachusetts  for  one  thousand  dollars, 
which  they  refused  to  give! !!!!!!! !  Those  entrusted 
with  our  National  Government  passed  by  the  opportu- 
nity of  doing  honor  to  themselves  during  the  life  of  a 
man  they  could  not  honor,  and  the  only  portrait  of 
Washington  was  neglected  in  the  painter's  work-shop, 
until  the  Boston  Athenaeum  purchased  it  of  his  widow. 
It  is  now,  together  with  its  companion,  the  portrait 
of  Mrs.  Washington,  adorning  one  of  the  rooms  of  that 
Institution.'  •' 

When  this  statement  is  read  by  men  of  coming 
times,  they  cannot,  they  will  not  believe  it.  Then  let 
it  be  forever  recorded  to  the  honor  of  Gilbert  Charles 
Stuart,  that  to  the  patriotism  or  the  ambition,  (and  I  care 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 


131 


not  which,)  of  one  man,  a  poor  painter,  the  people  of 
this  country  owe  the  portrait  of  their  Hero  and  Father. 
Tell  me  that  the  fame  of  every  living  statesman  will 
grow  dim,  and  that  the  time  will  come  when  men  will 
tear  down  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  as  men  tore  down 
the  Monument  on  Beacon  Hill,  '  to  make  way  for  a 
State  House,'  and  I  can  believe  it.  But  no  man  can 
believe  that  a  generation  will  ever  live  in  this  country 
who  will  not  feel  gratitude  to  Stuart,  and  preserve  his 
name. 

The  head  of  this  great  portrait  was  the  only  portion 
finished — but  this  rather  increased  its  value.  All  Stu- 
art's Washingtons  were  copied  from  it.  We  have  been 
equally  fortunate,  too,  in  the  engraver,  for  Durand's 
print  is  worthy  both  of  the  Hero  and  the  Painter. 

Here  I  must  end  Stuart's  life,  although  there  are 
lying  before  me  materials  rich  enough  for  an  entire 
volume.  After  this  the  Artist  lived  thirty-four  years, 
and  his  powers  of  mind  and  the  magic  of  his  pencil 
were  undimmed  to  the  very  last.  The  last  head  he  ever 
painted  was  that  of  John  Quincy  Adams.  He  began  it 
as  a  full-length ;  but  he  was  now  an  old  man — in  his 
seventy-fifth  year — and  death  laid  his  hand  on  the  great 
painter  before  his  work  was  done.  The  head  he  finished. 
He  died  in  July,  1828,  and  was  buried  in  the  cemetery 
of  the  Episcopal  Church,  which  he  attended  during  his 
long  residence  in  Boston. 

He  painted  a  great  number  of  portraits,  and  they 
are  scattered  over  the  country.  They  have  stirred  the 
first  ambition  of  many  an  early  painter,  and  they  have 
been  visited  by  our  best  Artists  from  a  distance,  as  men 
go  to  see  the  works  of  Italian  Masters. 

When  an  English  Ambassador  was  leaving  England 


132  GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART. 

for  America,  he  called  on  West,  and  asked  him  to  recom- 
mend a  portrait  painter.  *  Where  are  you  going  ?'  '  To 
the  United  States.'  '  There,  Sir,'  said  West, '  you  will  find 
the  best  portrait  painter  in  the  worlds  and  his  name  is 
Gilbert  Stuart.'  j 

When  Sully  was  in  Boston,  he  requested  Allston  to 
accompany  him  to  see  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Gibbs,  by  Stu- 
art. <  Well,'  says  Allston, '  what  is  your  opinion  ? '  The 
reply  was,  '  I  may  commit  myself  and  expose  my  igno- 
rance :  but  in  my  opinion,  I  never  saw  a  Rembrandt, 
Rubens,  Vandyke  or  Titian  equal  to  it.  What  say  you  ?' 
*  1  say,'  replied  Allston,  '  that  all  combined  could  not 
have  equalled  it.' 

Allston  wrote  Stuart's  obituary  notice  in  the  Boston 
Daily  Advertiser.  We  have  space  for  only  a  few  lines 
of  this  classic  and  touching  eulogium.  Speaking  of  Stu- 
art's portrait  of  Washington,  he  says  :  *  And  well  is  his 
ambition  justified  in  the  sublime  head  he  has  left  us;  a 
nobler  personification  of  wisdom  and  goodness,  reposing 
in  the  majesty  of  a  serene  conscience,  is  not  to  be  found 
on  canvas.  *  *  During  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life  he 
had  to  struggle  with  many  infirmities,  yet  such  was  the 
vigor  of  his  mind,  that  it  seemed  to  triumph  over  the 
decays  of  nature,  and  to  give  to  some  of  his  last  produc- 
tions all  the  truth  and  splendor  of  his  prime.  *  *  He 
animated  his  canvas,  not  with  the  appearances  of  mere 
general  life,  but  with  that  peculiar  distinctive  life  which 
separates  the  humblest  individual  from  his  kind.  He 
seemed  to  dive  into  the  thoughts  of  men,  for  they  were 
made  to  rise  and  to  speak  on  the  surface.  *  *  In  a  word, 
Gilbert  Stuart  was,  in  its  widest  sense,  a  philosopher  in 
his  art ;  he  thoroughly  understood  its  principles,  as  his 
works  bear  witness,  whether  as  to  the  harmony  of  col- 


GILBERT  CHARLES  STUART.  133 

ors,  or  of  lines,  or  of  light  and  shadow,  showing  that  ex- 
quisite sense  of  a  whole,  which  only  a  man  of  genius  can 
realize  and  embody.  *  *  *  In  the  world  of  Art  Mr. 
Stuart  has  left  a  void  that  will  not  soon  be  filled.  And 
well  may  his  country  say  a  great  man  has  passed  from 
amongst  us.  But  Gilbert  Stuart  has  bequeathed  her 
what  is  paramount  to  power — since  no  power  can  com- 
mand it — the  rich  inheritance  of  his  fame.'  A  higher 
eulogy  never  has  been  pronounced  over  the  grave  of  an 
American  painter. 


¥K[1JI^IBIU0.[L 


PAIN'I'KD    6Y    "WALDO    X:    JEW? 


JOHN    TRUMBULL. 


[lETTEH  from  gen.  WASHINGTON  TO  THE  MARQUIS  DE  LAFAYETTE.] 

Philadelphia,  Nov.  21st,  1791. 

My  Dear  Sir — Mr.  John  Trumbull,  with  whom  you  are  acquainted,  is 
engaged  in  painting  a  seriea  of  pictures  of  the  most  important  events  of  the 
Revolution  in  this  country,  from  which  he  proposes  to  have  plati  s  engraved. 

I  have  taken  peculiar  satisfaction  in  giving  every  proper  aid  in  my  power, 
to  a  subscription  here  supporting  this  work,  which  likewise  has  been  patron- 
ized by  the  principal  people  in  this  country. 

In  the  hope  of  meeting  the  patronage  of  the  French  nation,  to  whose  honor 
as  well  as  that  of  America,  this  plan  is  directed,  Mr.  Trumbull  informs  me 
that  he  has  ordered  a  subscription  to  be  opened  in  Paris  ;  and  the  object  of  this 
letter  is,  to  engage  you  to  support  the  subscription  in  that  city,  and  in  other 
parts  of  the  nation,  where  it  may  be  offered. 

I  should  not,  however,  do  justice  to  Mr.  Trumbull's  talents  and  merits, 
were  I  not  to  mention  his  views  and  wishes  on  this  occasion.  His  pieces,  so  far 
as  they  are  executed,  meet  the  applause  of  all  who  have  seen  them  ;  the  great- 
ness of  the  design,  and  the  masterly  execution  of  the  work,  equally  interest  the 
man  of  capacious  mind,  as  the  approving  eye  of  the  connoisseur.  He  has 
spared  no  pains  in  obtaining  from  the  life,  the  likenesses  of  those  characters, 
French  as  well  as  American,  who  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  our  Revolution  ; 
and  the  success  with  which  his  efforts  have  been  crowned,  will  form  no  small 
part  of  the  value  of  his  pieces. 

To  you,  my  dear  sir,  who  know  Mr.  Trumbull  as  a  man  and  as  an  artist, 
it  would  perhaps  have  been  hardly  necessary  to  say  so  much  as  I  have  done 
on  this  occasion  ;  but  I  could  not  in  justice  say  less  of  him,  when  I  believe 
that  in  his  profession  he  will  do  much  honor  to  the  liberal  art  of  painting,  as 
well  as  to  this  his  native  country.  •  *  •  •  • 

George  Washington. 


JOHN    TRUMBULL. 


In  reading  the  other  day  the  correspondence  between 
Schiller  and  Goethe  I  came  to  the  following  passage. — 
It  is  Goethe  who  writes  under  date  of  Stuttgart,  30th 
August,  1797. 

"  I  found  Professor  Mueller  at  the  portrait  of  Graff, 
which  Graff  painted  himself.  He  is  also  busy  with  the 
death  of  a  general,  and  that  an  American — a  young  man 
who  fell  at  Bunker  Hill.  The  picture  is  by  an  American, 
Trumbull,  and  has  merits  of  the  Artist,  and  faults  of  the 
Amateur.  The  merits  are  very  characteristic  and  ad- 
mirably handled  portrait  faces — the  faults,  disproportion 
between  the  different  bodies  and  between  their  parts. — 
It  is  composed  relatively  to  the  subject  right  well,  and  for 
a  picture  in  which  there  must  be  so  many  red  uniforms, 
very  judiciously  colored ;  yet  at  first  view  it  makes  a  glar- 
ing impression,  until  one  gets  reconciled  to  it,  on  account 
of  its  merits.  The  engraving  makes  a  very  good  whole — 
and  is  in  its  parts  excellently  done." 

Praise  of  this  kind  from  the  great  German  Poet,  Critic, 
Philosopher  and  Connoisseur,  will  pretty  nearly  upset 
all  Mr.  Dunlap  thought  proper  to  say  about  TrumbulPs 
merit  as  a  painter — the  Letter  of  Washington  just  given 
is  about  as  good  testimony  as  we  now  stand  in  need  of,  for 
Trumbull's  patriotism  and  public  services.  Since  too  the 
Painter  has  left  a  very  voluminous  autobiography,  we 
shall  leave  Mr.  Dunlap's  account  of  him  entirely  out  of 
the  question,  and  thus  be  saved  the  trouble  of  showing 


138  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

directly  how  far  he  allowed  his  private  passion  to  '  trans- 
port him  beyond  the  limits  of  honest  truth.' 

Trumbull  was  descended  from  Puritans  on  his  father's 
and  mother's  side.  His  father,  Jonathan  Trumbull,  was 
born  in  Lebanon  in  1710,  "and  at  a  very  early  age 
he  was  placed  at  Harvard  College,  where  he  became 
a  distinguished  scholar,  acquiring  a  sound  knowledge  of 
the  Hebrew,  as  well  as  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  langua- 
ges, and  of  all  the  other  studies  of  that  day.  He  was 
graduated  with  honor  in  1727.  He  died  in  1785,  having 
been  governor  of  the  state  of  Connecticut,  by  annual 
election,  during  the  entire  war  of  the  Revolution  ;  and 
was  the  only  person  who,  being  first  magistrate  of  a  col- 
ony in  America,  before  the  separation  from  Great  Britain, 
retained  the  confidence  of  his  countrymen  through  the 
Revolution,  and  was  annually  reelected  governor  to  the 
end  of  that  eventful  period. 

"  My  mother.  Faith  Robinson,  daughter  of  John  Rob- 
inson, minister  of  Duxbury  in  Massachusetts,  was  under- 
stood to  be  great  granddaughter  of  John  Robinson,  the 
father  of  the  Pilgrims,  who  led  our  Puritan  ancestors  (his 
parishioners)  out  of  England  in  the  reign  of  James  V,  and 
resided  with  them  some  years  at  Leyden  in  Holland,  until 
in  1620  they  emigrated  to  Plymouth  in  Massachusetts,  and 
there,  among  other  acts  of  wisdom  and  piety,  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  that  system  of  education  in  town  schools,  which 
has  since  been  extended  so  widely  over  the  northern  and 
western  parts  of  the  United  States,  forming  the  glory  and 
the  defence,  the  decus  atque  tutamen  of  our  country." 

The  Painter  was  born  in  Lebanon  the  6th  of  June, 
1756,  the  youngest  child.  He  was  attacked  with  con- 
vulsive fits,  caused  by  a  compression  of  the  brain,  owing 
to  the  suture  bones  being  lapped  over.     He  was  saved 


JOHN   TRUMBULL.  ]3g 

from  idiocy  or  death,  by  the  timely  advice  of  Dr.  Terry 
of  Suffield,  and  the  unremitting  attentions  of  an  affection- 
ate mother.  His  education  was  cared  for  most  effectual- 
ly. Opposite  his  father's  house,  across  a  beautiful  green, 
Nathan  Tisdale,  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  kept  for  thirty 
years  one  of  the  best  schools  ever  kept  in  this  country,  and 
here  Trumbull  was  thoroughly  trained.  He  read  Greek 
(in  a  certain  way)  when  he  was  only  six  years  old.  He 
also  plunged  headlong  down  the  stairs,  which  so  nearly  de- 
stroyed the  sight  of  his  left  eye  that  he  could  '  never  after- 
ward read  a  single  word  with  the  left  eye  alone.' 

He  gives  the  following  account  of  the  first  develop- 
ment of  his  taste  for  art. 

"My  taste  for  drawing  began  to  dawn  early.  It  is  com- 
mon to  talk  of  natural  genius ;  but  I  am  disposed  to  doubt 
the  existence  of  such  a  principle  in  the  human  mind;  at 
least,  in  my  own  case,  I  can  clearly  trace  it  to  mere  imita- 
tion. My  two  sisters.  Faith  and  Mary,  had  completed 
their  education  at  an  excellent  school  in  Boston,  where 
they  both  had  been  taught  embroidery  ;  and  the  eldest, 
Faith,  had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  drawing,  and  had 
even  painted  in  oil  two  heads  and  a  landscape.  These 
wonders  were  hung  in  my  mother's  parlor,  and  were 
among  the  first  objects  that  caught  my  infant  eye.  I  en- 
deavored to  imitate  them,  and  for  several  years  the  nicely 
sanded  floors  (for  carpets  were  then  unknown  in  Leba- 
non) were  constantly  scrawled  with  my  rude  attempts 
at  drawing." 

He  speaks  also  of  Music — and  in  his  old  age  wrote 
the  following  passage  about  Jews-harps,  which  nobody 
has  any  right  to  criticise  but  Connecticut  Yankees,  for  it 
is  well  known  that  this  wonderful  instrument  never  sound- 
ed any  where  else  as  in  Connecticut. 


J40  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

"  About  the  same  time  music  first  caught  my  attention. 
I  heard  a  Jews-harp,  delicious  sound  !  vv  hich  no  time  can 
drive  from  my  enchanted  memory  !  I  have  since  h(;en 
present  at  a  commemoration  of  Handel,  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  have  often  listened  with  rapture  to  the  celes- 
tial warblings  of  Catalani — I  have  heard  the  finest  music 
of  the  age  in  London  and  in  Paris — but  nothing  can  ob-* 
literate  the  magic  charm  of  that  Jews-harj),  and  even  at 
this  late  moment,  its  sweet  vibrations  seem  to  tingle  on 
my  ear." 

Trumbull  painted  and  studied  till  his  16th  year,  when 
he  was  entered  at  Harvard,  (1772,)  in  the  Junior  class, 
*  the  best  educated  boy  of  his  age  in  New  England ' — 
said  the  Greek  Professor. 

"My  fondness  for  painting  had.  grown  with  my 
growth,  and  in  reading  of  the  arts  of  antiquity  I  had  be- 
come familiar  with  the  names  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles, 
of  Zeuxis  and  Apelles.  These  names  had  come  down 
through  a  series  of  more  than  two  thousand  years,  with 
a  celebrity  and  applause  which  accompanied  few  of 
those  who  had  been  devoted  to  the  more  noisy  and  turbu- 
lent scenes  of  politics  or  war.  The  tranquillity  of  the 
art  seemed  better  suited  to  me  than  the  more  bustling 
scenes  of  life." 

Trumbull  tried  to  prevail  on  his  faiher  to  let  him 
become  a  pupil  of  Copley — but  in  vain. 

His  superiority  of  scholarship  left  him  much  leisure 
time,  which  he  wisely  improved  in  learning  French,  from 
Pero  Robichaud,  a  knowledge  of  which  'in  after  life  was 
of  eminent  utility.' 

"  In  the  mean  time  I  searched  the  library  of  the  col- 
lege for  works  relating  to  the  arts,  and  among  a  (e\v  others 
of  less  importance,  I  found   the  'Jesuit's   Prospective 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


141 


made  easy,  by  Brooke  Taylor.'  This  I  studied  careful- 
ly, and  still  possess  a  book  into  which  I  copied  most  of  the 
diagrams  of  the  work.  I  found  also,  and  read  with  at- 
tention, '  Hogarth's  Analysis  of  Beauty.'  The  library 
contained  further  a  few  fine  engravings,  and  a  set  of  Pi- 
renezi's  prints  of  Roman  ruins ;  in  the  philosophical  cham- 
ber were  several  of  Mr.  Copley's  finest  portraits,  and  a 
view  of  an  eruption  of  Mount  Vesuvius,  painted  in  Italy. 
*  *  *  *  At  the  same  time  1  copied  the  painting 
of  Vesuvius  twice ;  first  with  water  colors  on  vellum, 
small ;  and  afterwards  in  oil,  the  size  of  the  original. 
One  of  these  I  presented  to  Professor  Winthrop." 

In  July  1773,  he  was  '  graduated  without  applause,' 
for,  says  he,  "  I  was  not  a  speaker,  and  returned  to  Leba- 
non, where  I  resumed  the  pencil,  and  painted  the  death 
of  Paulus  Emilius  at  the  battle  of  Cannae,  a  passage  of 
Roman  history  which  I  had  always  admired. 

'  AnimsequiE  magnie, 
Prodigum  Paalutn,  superante  Poeno.' — Horace. 

This  was  effected  by  selecting  from  various  engravings 
such  figures  as  suited  my  purpose,  combining  them  into 
groups,  and  coloring  them  from  my  own  imagination. 
One  thing  I  attempted  which  I  should  now  hardly  ven- 
ture upon — the  clouds  of  dust  by  which  the  distant  ob- 
jects are  obscured.  This  picture  is  in  the  gallery  at 
New-Haven." 

The  winter  after  he  left  college,  he  conducted  the 
school  of  Master  Tisdale,  who  '  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis.' 

"  In  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1774,  the  angry  dis- 
cussions between  Great  Britain  and  her  colonies  began 
to  assume  a  very  serious  tone.  As  the  low  growling  of 
distant  thunder  announces  the  approach  of  the  natural 


242  JOHN    TRUMBULL. 

tempest,  so  did  these  discussions  give  evident  notice  that 
a  moral  storm  was  at  hand,  and  men  began  to  fear  that 
the  decision  of  these  angry  questions  must  ere  long  be 
referred  to  the  ultima  ratio. 

"  1  caught  the  growing  enthusiasm  ;  the  characters  of 
Brutus,  of  Paulus  Emilius,  of  the  Scipios,  were  fresh  in 
my  remembrance,  and  their  devoted  patriotism  always 
before  my  eye  ;  besides,  my  father  was  now  governor  of 
the  colony,  and  a  patriot, — of  course  surrounded  by 
patriots,  to  whose  ardent  conversations  1  listened  daily — 
it  would  have  been  strange  if  all  this  had  failed  to  pro- 
duce its  natural  effect.  I  sought  for  military  informa- 
tion ;  acquired  what  knowledge  I  could,  soon  formed  a 
small  company  from  among  the  young  men  of  the  school 
and  the  village,  taught  them,  or  more  properly  we  taught 
each  other,  to  use  the  musket  and  to  march,  and  mili- 
tary exercises  and  studies  became  the  favorite  occupation 
of  the  day." 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  the  blood  of  our  fathers 
began  to  flow  on  the  plains  of  Lexington.  Before  the 
first  of  May  a  regiment  of  troops  'started  into  view  as 
by  magic,'  and  were  on  their  march  for  Bunker's  Hill. 
Young  Trumbull  was  adjutant  of  the  regiment.  He 
was  the  best  draughtsman  in  the  army,  and  his  draw- 
ings of  battle-fields,  forts,  and  fortifications,  brought  him 
to  the  notice  of  the  Commander-in-Chief,  who  appoint- 
ed the  young  painter  his  second  aid-de-camp.  He  was 
afterwards  detached  from  Washington's  staff  and  made 
a  major  of  brigade  at  Roxbury.  When  General  Gates 
took  command  of  the  '  Northern  Department,'  he  offered 
Trumbull  the  appointment  of  adjutant,  and  he  attended 
him  on  his  northern  expedition,  where  he  distinguished 
himself  in  the  service  of  the  Colonies. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


143 


On  the  22nd  of  Feb.  1777,  terminated  Trumbull's 
'  regular  military  career.'  The  cause  of  his  resignation  he 
explained  in  a  letter  to  the  President  of  Congress.  His 
commission  as  Deputy  Adjutant  General,  was  dated  the 
12th  of  September,  1776 — he  had  served  in  that  office 
since  the  28th  of  June,  by  the  appointment  of  Major 
General  Gates,  who  was  authorized  to  make  the  appoint- 
ment by  particular  instructions  from  Congress.  Trumbull 
was  right  in  principle,  but  the  manner  of  his  resignation 
offended  the  Congress.  He  would  not  yield  a  point  of 
honor,  and  his  course  has  been  justified  by  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  officers  of  the  Revolution. 

"  Thus  ended  my  regular  military  service,  to  my  deep 
regret,  for  my  mind  was  at  this  time  full  of  lofty  mihtary 
aspirations. 

"  I  returned  to  Lebanon,  resumed  my  pencil,  and 
after  some  time  went  to  Boston,  where  I  thought  I  could 
pursue  my  studies  to  more  advantage.  There  I  hired 
the  room  which  had  been  built  by  Mr.  Smybert,  the  pa- 
triarch of  painting  in  America,  and  found  in  it  several 
copies  by  him  from  celebrated  pictures  in  Europe,  which 
were  very  useful  to  me,  especially  a  copy  from  Van- 
dyck's  celebrated  head  of  Cardinal  Bentivoglio,— one 
from  the  Continence  of  Scipio,  by  Nicolo  Poussin,  and 
one  which  I  afterwards  learned  to  be  from  the  Madonna 
della  Sedia,  by  Raphael.  Mr.  Copley  was  gone  to  Eu- 
rope, and  there  remained  in  Boston  no  artist  from  whom 
I  could  gain  oral  instruction ;  but  these  copies  supplied 
the  place,  and  I  made  some  progress. 

"  The  war  was  a  period  little  favorable  to  regular  study 
and  deliberate  pursuits  ;  mine  were  often  desultory.  A 
deep  and  settled  regret  of  the  military  career  from  which 
I  had  been  driven,  and  to  which  there  appeared  to  be  no 


144  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

possibility  of  an  honorable  return,  preyed  upon  my  spirits; 
and  the  sound  of  a  drum  frequently  called  an  involuntary 
tear  to  my  eye. 

"  In  the  year  1778,  a  plan  was  formed  for  the  recov- 
ery of  Rhode  Island  from  the  hands  of  the  British,  by 
the  cooperation  of  a  French  fleet  of  twelve  sail  of  the 
line,  commanded  by  the  Count  D'Estaing,  and  a  body 
of  American  troops,  commanded  by  General  Sullivan. 
The  fleet  arrived  ofl*  New- York  early  in  July,  and  in  Au- 
gust sailed  for  Rhode  Island.  I  seized  this  occasion  to 
gratify  my  slumbering  love  of  military  life,  and  offered 
my  services  to  General  Sullivan,  as  a  volunteer  aid-de- 
camp. My  offer  was  accepted,  and  I  attended  him 
during  the  enterprise. 

"  I  soon  recovered,  and  resumed  the  pencil,  pursuing 
the  study  of  painting  with  great  assiduity  during  the  fol- 
lowing year.  My  friends,  however,  were  not  satisfied 
with  my  pursuit,  and  at  length  succeeded  in  persuading 
me  to  undertake  the  management  of  a  considerable 
speculation,  which  required  a  voyage  to  Europe,  and 
promised  (upon  paper)  great  results.  They  were  to  fur- 
nish the  funds,  I  to  execute  the  plan,  and  share  with  them 
expected  profits.  Accordingly,  in  the  autumn  of  1779,  I 
gave  up  my  studies  in  Boston,  and  returned  to  my  fath- 
er's house  in  Lebanon,  to  prepare  for  the  voyage." 

In  the  mean  time  Trumbull  had  received  through  Mr. 
Temple,  information  that  "he  had  seen  Lord  George 
Germaine,  the  British  secretary  of  state — had  represent- 
ed to  him  my  wish  to  study  painting  under  Mr.  West  ; 
had  explained  my  connexions,  my  past  military  pursuits, 
&c..  concealing  nothing — and  had  received  for  answer, 
*  that  if  I  chose  to  visit  London  for  the  purpose  of  stu- 
dying the  fine  arts,  no  notice  would  be  taken  by  the 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


145 


government  of  my  past  life ;  but  that  I  must  remem- 
ber that  the  eye  of  precaution  would  be  constantly 
upon  me,  and  I  must  therefore  avoid  the  smallest  in- 
discretion,— but  that  s(»  long  as  I  avoided  all  political 
intervention,  and  pursued  the  study  of  the  arts  with 
assiduity,  [  might  rely  upon  being  unmolested. 

"  Thus,  in  the  event  of  failure  of  my  mercantile  pro- 
ject, the  road  was  open  for  pursuing  my  study  of  the 
arts,  with  increased  advantages." 

He  gives  a  list  of  sixty-eight  pictures,  executed  be- 
fore his  visit  abroad,  when  he  had  received  no  instruction 
except  from  the  books  and  works  of  art  he  had  seen. 
They  exhibit  a  wide  range  of  fancy,  and  some  of  them 
indicate  extraordinary  genius  for  art. 

In  May,  1780,  he  sailed  from  New  London  for 
France,  in  La  Negresse,  a  B'rench  ship  of  28  guns — dri- 
ven on  our  coast  in  distress,  from  Hispaniola.  In  five 
weeks  he  landed  in  Nantes,  and  journied  on  to  Paris, 
where  he  saw  Dr.  Franklin,  John  Adams,  and  the  boy 
J.  Q.  Adams,  who  was  then  busily  engaged  at  school, 
in  st^iffing:  his  brain  fuller  of  information  than  anv  man's 
ever  was  before  or  since.  He  soon  saw  his  speculation 
was  likely  to  fail,  and  he  left  for  London,  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  Franklin  to  West,  who  was  then  in 
his  glory.  The  Painter  to  George  III.  received  Trum- 
bull kindly,  and  at  once  offered  him  his  services,  flis 
first  attempt  was  a  copy  of  the  Madonna  della  Sedula. 
When  West  saw  it,  he  said:  "  Mr.  Trumbull,  I  have  now 
no  hesitation  to  say  that  nature  intended  you  for  a 
painter.  You  possess  the  essential  qualities ;  nothing 
more  is  necessary  but  careful'and  assiduous  cultivation." 
*'With  this  stimulant,  I  devoted  myself  assiduously  to  the 
w-  10 


|4g  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

Study  of  the  art,  allowing  little  time  to  make  myself  ac- 
quainted with  the  curiosities  and  amusements  of  the  city/' 

A  movement  was  set  on  foot  against  Trumbull  by  some 
American  Loyalist,  and  he  was  arrested  for  '  high  treason,' 
and  taken  off  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  to  a  lock-up 
house  in  Drury  Lane.  Examined  the  next  morning  by 
three  police  magistrates,  who  seemed  to  desire  to  know 
something  about  the  traitor,  he  thus  addressed  them : 
"You  appear  to  have  been  much  more  habituated  to  the 
society  of  highwaymen  and  pickpockets,  than  to  that  of 
gentlemen.  I  will  put  an  end  to  all  this  insolent  folly, 
by  telling  you  frankly  who  and  what  I  am.  I  am  an 
American — my  name  is  Trumbull ;  I  am  a  son  of  him 
whom  you  call  the  rebel  governor  of  Connecticut;  I  have 
served  in  the  rebel  American  army ;  I  have  had  the  honor 
of  being  an  aid-de-camp  to  him  whom  you  call  the  rebel 
General  Washington.  These  two  have  always  in  their 
power  a  greater  number  of  your  friends,  prisoners,  than 
you  have  of  theirs.  Lord  George  Germaine  knows  un- 
der what  circumstances  I  came  to  London,  and  what  has 
been  my  conduct  here.  I  am  entirely  in  your  power ; 
and,  after  the  hint  which  I  have  given  you,  treat  me  as 
you  please,  always  remembering,  that  as  1  may  be  treated, 
so  will  your  friends  in  America  be  treated  by  mine." 

The  painter's  commitment  was  made  out  for  a  loath- 
some prison — the  only  one  the  Gordon  riots  had  left  stand- 
ing in  London — and  the  first  night  the  son  of  the  governor 
of  Connecticut  slept  with  a  highwayinan.  Lord  George 
Germaine  was  appealed  to,  and  although  he  could  not '  in- 
terrupt the  course  of  justice,'  he  offered  the  young  rebel 
a  lodging  in  the  Tower  where  Raleigh  and  some  other 
very  distinguished  men  had  lodged  centuries  before, 


JOHN  TRUMBULL.  147 

any  prison  in  England  Trumbull  had  no  money  to  waste 
and  he  declined  the  Tower,  and  chose  Tithill-fields  Bride- 
well, behind  Buckingham  House.  Here  the  painter  had  a 
parlor  on  the  ground  floor,  a  garden  to  walk  in,  and  other 
etceteras  which  made  him  *  quite  comfortable.' 

Death  was  the  only  probable  or  apparently  possible 
termination  to  this  affair.  The  moment  West  heard 
what  had  befallen  his  pupil,  he  '  hurried  to  Buckingham 
House,  asked  an  audience  of  the  king,  and  was  admit- 
ted.' '  I  am  sorry  for  the  young  man,'  said  the  king, 
*  but  he  is  in  the  hands  of  the  law,  and  must  abide  the 
result ;  I  cannot  interpose.  Do  you  know  whether  his 
parents  are  living  ? '  'I  think  I  have  heard  him  say  that 
he  has  very  lately  received  news  of  the  death  of  his 
mother ;  I  believe  his  father  is  living.' 

'  I  pity  him,  from  my  soul ! '  He  mused  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  added :  'But,  West,  go  to  Mr.  Trumbull 
immediately,  and  pledge  to  him  my  royal  promise,  that, 
in  the  worst  possible  event  of  the  law,  his  life  shall  be 
safe.'  With  this  kind  answer.  West  hurried  away  to 
the  prison.  "  I  had  now,"  says  Trumbull,  "  nothing  more 
to  apprehend  than  a  tedious  confinement,  and  that  might 
be  softened  by  books  and  my  pencil.  I  therefore  begged 
Mr.  West  to  permit  me  to  have  his  beautiful  little  Correg- 
gio  and  my  tools  ;  1  proceeded  with  the  copy,  which  was 
finished  in  prison  during  the  winter  of  1780-81,  and  is 
now  deposited  in  the  Gallery  at  New  Haven.  In  the 
course  of  the  winter,  I  received  kind  visits  from  many 
distinguished  men,  among  whom  were  John  Lee,  lately 
attorney  general,  Charles  J.  Fox,  and  others.  Mr.  Fox 
was  very  kind ;  he  recommended  a  direct  application  to 
ministers,  on  the  ground  of  impolicy,  and  added,  '  I 
would  underta^±t  myself,  if  I  thought  I  could  have  any 


148  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

influence  with  them ;  but  such  is  the  hostility  between 
us,  that  we  are  not  even  on  speaking  terms.  Mr.  Burke 
has  not  lost  all  influence — has  not  thrown  away  the 
scabbard,  as  I  have  ;  I  will  converse  with  him,  and  desire 
him  to  visit  you.'  A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Burke  came 
to  see  me,  and  readily  and  kindly  undertook  the  negoti- 
ation, which,  after  some  unavoidable  delay,  ended  in  the 
order  of  the  king  in  council  to  admit  me  to  bail,  with  the 
condition  that  1  should  leave  the  kingdom  in  thirty  days, 
and  not  return  until  after  peace  should  be  restored.  Mr. 
West  and  Mr.  Copley  became  my  sureties,  and  I  was 
liberated  in  the  beginning  of  June,  after  a  close  confine- 
ment of  seven  months. 

1  remained  in  London  a  few  days,  and  then  deter- 
mined to  return  to  America  by  the  shortest  route,  Am- 
sterdam." 

Trumbull  had  a  long  and  boisterous  passage  home, 
where  he  remained  till  the  peace  of  '83,  when  he  sailed 
for  England  once  more.     He  was  now  28  years  old. 

He  arrived  at  London  in  January,  1784,  and  'went 
immediately  to  Mr.  West.'  His  father  had  written  a 
letter  of  thanks  to  Edmund  Burke  for  his  '  kindness  to 
his  son  when  in  prison.'  Burke  strongly  recommended 
the  Painter  to  study  Architecture.  "  You  must  be 
aware,"  said  he,  "that  you  belong  to  a  young  nation, 
which  will  soon  want  public  buildings ;  these  must  be 
erected  before  the  decorations  of  painting  and  sculpture 
will  be  required.  I  would  therefore  strongly  advise  you 
to  study  architecture  thoroughly  and  scientifically,  in  or- 
der to  qualify  yourself  to  superintend  the  erection  of  these 
national  buildings  ;  decorate  them  also,  if  you  will." 

"  This,"  says  Trumbull,  "  was  wise  and  kind  advice, 
and  I  had  afterwards  sufficient  evidence  of  my  own 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


149 


want  of  wisdom  in  neglecting  to  follow  it ;  a  few  of  the 
hours  of  evenings,  which,  with  all  my  fancied  industry, 
were  trifled  away,  would  have  sufficed  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  thorough  architectural  knowledge." 

He  studied  with  West,  and  spent  his  evenings  in 
drawing  at  the  Academy,  where  he  '  frequently  sat  by 
the  side  of  Lawrence,  *  *  whose  works  were  not 
unfrequently  out  of  drawing,'  which  may  readily  be  be- 
lieved, by  those  who  have  seen  his  later  performances. 

"  In  the  summer  of  1785,  I  finished  for  Mr.  West  a 
copy  of  his  glorious  picture  of  the  battle  of  La  Hogue, 
on  cloth,  a  few  inches  larger  on  every  side  than  the  ori- 
ginal. This  work  was  of  inestimable  importance  to  me, 
and  soon  after,  1  composed  and  painted  the  picture  of 
*  Priam  returning  to  his  family  with  the  dead  body  of 
Hector,'  which  is  now  in  the  Athenaeum  at  Boston. 

"In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  I  was  invited  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Preston,  of  Chevening,  in  Kent,  to  pass  a 
week  at  his  house,  in  company  with  Mr.  West's  eldest 
son.  The  library  of  Mr.  Preston,  (which  at  his  death 
he  bequeathed  to  the  library  of  Philadelphia,  where  it 
now  is,)  was  rich  in  works  relating  to  the  arts,  and 
among  others,  were  the  Trajan,  Antonine,  and  other  col- 
umns, the  triumphal  arches,  bas-reliefs,  &c.  &c.,  of 
Rome ;  these  I  studied  attentively.  Here,  also,  I  made 
my  first  attempt  at  the  composition  of  a  military  scene, 
taken  from  the  war  of  the  Revolution  ;  it  was  a  small 
sketch  in  Indian  Ink,  on  paper,  of  the  death  of  General 
Frazer,  at  Behmus's  heights.     *     *     * 

"  U  pon  my  return  to  town,  I  resumed  my  studies 
with  Mr.  West,  and  at  the  Academy,  with  ardor ;  and 
now  began  to  meditate  seriously  the  subjects  of  national 
history,  of  events  of  the  Revolution,  which  have  since 


J  50  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

been  the  great  objects  of  my  professional  life.  The 
death  of  General  Warren  at  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill, 
and  of  General  Montgomery  in  the  attack  on  Quebec, 
were  first  decided  upon.  These  were  the  earliest  im- 
portant events  in  point  of  time,  and  I  not  only  regarded 
them  as  highly  interesting  passages  of  history,  but  felt, 
that  in  painting  them,  I  should  be  paying  a  just  tribute 
of  gratitude  to  the  memory  of  eminent  men,  who  had 
given  their  lives  for  their  country.  These  pictures  (which 
are  now  in  the  Gallery  at  New  Haven)  were  both  painted 
in  the  room  of  Mr.  West. 

"Mr.  West  witnessed  the  progress  of  these  two  pic- 
tures with  great  interest,  and  strongly  encouraged  me 
to  persevere  in  the  work  of  the  history  of  the  American 
Revolution,  which  I  had  thus  commenced,  and  recom- 
mended to  have  the  series  engraved." 

This  suggestion  Trumbull  followed  up  all  through 
life,  at  a  great  sacrifice  of  time,  money,  and  tranquillity. 
Artists  and  authors  generally  regret  it  when  they  under- 
take to  publish  their  own  works.  With  a  view  to  ac- 
complish his  object,  he  visited  Paris  in  1785,  at  the  in- 
vitation of  Mr.  Jefferson,  who  was  a  liberal  and  enlight- 
ened friend  of  Art.  The  great  statesman  received 
Trumbull  '  most  kindly  at  his  house,'  where  he  made  it 
his  home. 

"My  two  paintings,  the  first  fruits  of  my  national  en- 
terprise, met  his  warm  approbation,  and  during  my  visit, 
I  began  the  composition  of  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, with  the  assistance  of  his  information  and  advice." 

John  Barker  Church,  an  opulent  and  elegant  man, 
treated  Trumbull  with  great  confidence  and  generosity. 
With  that  delicacy  which  always  distinguishes  the  doer 
of  a  really  generous  deed,  he  said  to  Trumbull  one  day 


JOHN  TRUMBULL.  |5| 

without  solicitation — '  My  real  business,  therefore,  is  to 
ask  that  you  will  consider  me  as  your  banker,  and  that 
whenever  you  may  have  occasion  for  fifty,  one  hundred, 
or  five  hundred  pounds,  you  will  go  to  no  one  else,  but 
apply  to  me,  and  you  shall  always  have  it,  on  your  personal 
security.  I  shall  ask  no  guarantee  or  endorser — your 
simple  receipt  only,  and  five  per  cent,  interest.' — In  his 
Autobiography  he  mentions  the  circumstance,  and  speaks 
of  his  friend  in  the  most  grateful  terms.  After  a  visit  of 
several  months  at  Paris,  where  he  was  treated  with  mark- 
ed attention,  he  made  a  journey  through  the  countries 
watered  by  the  Rhine,  and  returned  in  the  fall  of  1786  to 
London,  "  my  brain  half  turned  by  the  attention  which 
had  been  paid  to  my  paintings  in  Paris,  and  by  the  mul- 
titude of  fine  things  which  I  had  seen. 

"  I  resumed  my  labors,  however,  and  went  on  with  my 
studies  of  other  subjects  of  the  history  of  the  Revolution, 
arranged  carefully  the  composition  for  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  prepared  it  for  receiving  the  portraits, 
as  I  might  meet  with  the  distinguished  men,  who  were 
present  at  that  illustrious  scene.  In  the  course  of  the 
summer  of  1787,  Mr.  Adams  took  leave  of  the  court  of 
St.  James,  and  preparatory  to  the  voyage  to  America, 
had  the  powder  combed  out  of  his  hair.  Its  color  and 
natural  curl  were  beautiful,  and  I  took  that  opportunity 
to  paint  his  portrait  in  the  small  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. 1  also  made  various  studies  for  the  Surrender  of 
Lord  Cornwallis,  and  in  this  found  great  difficulty ;  the 
scene  was  altogether  one  of  utter  formality — the  ground 
was  level — military  etiquette  was  to  be  scrupulously  ob- 
served, and  yet  the  portraits  of  the  principal  officers  of 
three  proud  nations  must  be  preserved,  without  inter- 
rupting the  general  regularity  of  the  scene.     I  drew  it 


152  J^HN  TRUMBULL. 

over  and  over  again,  and  at  last,  having  resolved  upon 
the  present  arrangement,  I  prepared  the  small  picture  to 
receive  the  portraits.  Some  progress  was  also  made  in 
the  composition  of  some  of  the  other  subjects,  especially 
of  the  battles  of  Trenton  and  Princeton,  for  which  I  made 
many  studies  upon  paper." 

"  In  May  of  this  year,  (1787,)  M.  Poggi  told  me  the 
story  of  the  sortie  from  Gibraltar,  which  had  taken  place 
in  1781  ;  we  were  walking  in  Oxford  street,  in  early 
twilight — I  went  to  my  lodgings,  and  before  I  slept,  put 
upon  paper  a  small  sketch  of  the  scene,  now  in  possession 
of  the  Athenaeum,  Boston."  An  improved  copy  of  this 
picture  was  sold  to  Sir  T.  Baring  for  five  hundred  guin- 
eas. A  third  attempt  he  also  made  of  the  same  subject, 
which  attracted  a  good  deal  of  notice  at  the  Spring 
Garden  exhibition,  and  was  afterward  purchased  by  the 
Athenaeum,  Boston.  Horace  Walpole  said  he  'regarded 
as  the  finest  picture  he  had  seen  painted  on  the  northern 
side  of  the  Alps.'  "Before  the  picture  was  exhibited," 
says  Trumbull,  "  I  was  offered  twelve  hundred  guineas 
(six  thousand  dollars)  for  it,  which  I  refused,  under  the 
persuasion  that  the  exhibition,  the  print,  and  the  ultimate 
sale  of  the  picture,  would  produce  more  ;  the  event  has 
proved  that  I  made  a  mistake. 

"  In  the  autumn  of  1787, 1  again  visited  Paris,  where 
I  painted  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Jefferson  in  the  original 
small  Declaration  of  Independence,  Major  General  Ross 
in  the  small  Sortie  from  Gibraltar,  and  the  French  offi- 
cers in  the  Surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis,  at  Yorktown, 
in  Virginia.  I  regard  these  as  the  best  of  my  small 
portraits ;  they  were  painted  from  the  life,  in  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson's house. 

"  I  was  again  in  Paris  in  the  early  autumn  of  1789, 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


153 


and  witnessed  the  commencement  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution— the  destruction  of  the  Bastile,  &c." 

Trumbull  returned  the  second  time  to  the  United 
States  in  November  1789.  Congress  met  in  New- York 
early  in  December.  *'  All  the  world  was  assembled 
there,  and  I  obtained  many  portraits  for  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  Surrender  of  Cornwallis,  and  also 
that  of  General  Washington  in  the  battles  of  Trenton 
and  Princeton." 

The  following  summer  he  was  commissioned  by  the 
Corporation  of  New- York,  to  paint  a  full-length  of 
Washington.  The  Artist  thus  speaks  of  his  work  : — 
*'  I  represented  him  in  full  uniform,  standing  by  a  white 
horse,  leaning  his  arm  upon  the  saddle ;  in  the  back- 
ground, a  view  of  Broadway  in  ruins,  as  it  then  was, 
the  old  fort  at  the  termination ;  British  ships  and  boats 
leaving  the  shore,  with  the  last  of  the  officers  and  troops 
of  the  evacuating  army,  and  Staten  Island  in  the  distance. 
The  picture  is  now  in  the  Common  Council  room  of  the 
City  Hall.  Every  part  of  the  detail  of  the  dress,  horse, 
furniture,  &c.,  as  well  as  the  scenery,  was  accurately 
copied  from  the  real  objects." 

He  now  spent  a  considerable  time  in  journeying  to 
distant  parts  of  the  country,  painting  portraits  of  the 
illustrious  men  he  introduced  into  his  historical  pieces — 
a  work  which  no  other  man  of  his  time  seemed  inclined 
to  do. 

"  The  following  spring  I  returned  to  New- York,  where 
I  painted  for  the  Ci  rporation  the  whole  length  portrait 
of  General  George  Clinton,  which  is  now  in  the  Com- 
mon Council  room  of  the  City  Hall.  The  back-ground 
of  this  picture  represents  British  troops  storming  Fort 
Montgomery  in   the   Highlands,    (where    the   General 


154  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

commanded,)  and  the  burning  of  two  frigates  in  the 
North  River;  this  back-ground  is  one  of  my  favorite 
compositions." 

"In  1792  I  was  again  in  Philadelphia,  and  there 
painted  the  portrait  of  General  Washington  which  is 
now  placed  in  the  gallery  at  New  Haven,  the  best  cer- 
tainly of  those  which  I  painted,  and  the  best,  in  mj' 
estimation,  which  exists,  in  his  heroic  military  character. 
The  city  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  instructed  William  R, 
Smith,  one  of  the  Representatives  of  South  Carolina, 
to  employ  me  to  paint  for  them  a  portrait  of  the  great 
man,  and  I  undertook  it  con  amore,  (as  the  commission 
was  unlimited,)  meaning  to  give  his  military  character, 
in  the  most  sublime  moment  of  its  exertion — the  eve- 
ning previous  to  the  battle  of  Princeton ;  when  viewing 
the  vast  superiority  of  his  approaching  enemy,  and  the 
impossibility  of  again  crossing  the  Delaware,  or  retreat- 
ing down  the  river,  he  conceives  the  plan  of  returning 
by  a  night  march  into  the  country  from  which  he  had 
just  been  driven,  thus  cutting  off  the  enemy's  commu- 
nication, and  destroying  his  depot  of  stores  and  provis- 
ions at  Brunswick.  I  told  the  President  my  object ;  he 
entered  into  it  warmly,  and,  as  the  work  advanced,  we 
talked  of  the  scene,  its  dangers,  its  almost  desperation. 
He  looked  the  scene  again,  and  I  happily  transferred  to 
the  canvas  the  lofty  expression  of  his  animated  coun- 
tenance, the  high  resolve  to  conquer  or  to  perish.  The 
result  was,  in  my  own  opinion,  eminently  successful,  and 
the  General  was  satisfied.  But  it  did  not  meet  the 
views  of  Mr.  Smith.  He  admired,  he  was  personally 
pleased,  but  he  thought  the  city  would  be  better  satisfied 
with  a  more  matter-of-fact  likeness,  such  as  they  had 
recently  seen  him — calm,  tranquil,  peaceful."     *     *    * 


JOHN   TRUMBULL. 


156 


"  Another  was  painted  for  Charleston,  agreeable  to  their 
taste — a  view  of  the  city  in  the  back-ground,  a  horse, 
with  scenery,  and  plants  of  the  climate ;  and  when  the 
State  Society  of  Cincinnati  of  Connecticut  dissolved 
themselves,  the  first  picture,  at  the  expense  of  some  of 
the  members,  was  presented  to  Yale  College." 

In  1794,  the  12th  day  of  May,  'Mr.  Jay  embarked 
in  New- York,  on  his  mission  to  Great  Britain,  amidst 
the  acclamations  of  his  fellow-citizens,'  Trumbull  sail- 
ing with  him  as  his  secretary.  On  the  negotiation  of 
the  Treaty  with  Great  Britain,  effected  by  Mr.  Jay, 
Trumbull's  duties  ceased,  and  he  went  to  the  continent 
to  see  what  progress  had  been  made  by  Miiller,  who 
was  engraving  his  Bunker's  Hill  at  Stuttgard.  The 
French  Revolution  brought  with  it  the  ruin  of  many  an- 
cient and  opulent  families,  and  paintings  by  the  old  Mas- 
ters were  sold,  with  all  those  treasures  which  could  not 
easily  be  transported,  for  what  their  owners  could  get. 
Trumbull,  with  the  advice  and  assistance  of  M.  Le 
Brun,  '  the  most  experienced  judge  on  that  subject  then 
in  Europe,  purchased  more  than  one  hundred  valuable 
paintings,'  and  sent  them  on  to  Guernsey,  from  whence 
they  were  taken  to  London  insured.  The  pictures  were 
injured,  but  the  celebrated  Erskine  gave  his  opinion 
the  underwriters  were  not  responsible,  and  the  claim 
was  not  prosecuted. 

Trumbull,  who  seems  always  to  have  been  fond  of 
large  speculations,  took  an  agency  for  three  great  com- 
mercial houses  in  London,  and  in  the  end  "  gained  noth- 
ing, and  had  thrown  away  eight  months  of  precious 
time.  I  returned  to  London  early  in  August,  1796, 
having  in  little  more  than  two  years  passed  through  the 


156      '  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

several  varieties  of  a  political  secretary,  a  picture  dealer, 
and  a  brandy  merchant." 

On  his  arrival  in  London,  he  received  from  Mr.  Pick- 
ering, Secretary  of  State,  "  a  commission  and  instruc- 
tions, apjK)inting  me  agent  for  the  relief  and  recovery  of 
American  seamen  impressed  by  Great  Britain ;  and  be- 
fore I  had  an  opportunity  of  returning  an  answer,  I  re- 
ceived notice  from  the  commissioners  who  had  been 
appointed  by  the  two  nations  to  carry  into  execution  the 
seventh  article  of  the  late  treaty,  that  they  had  appoint- 
ed me  the  fifth  commissioner.      *      *     * 

"  The  board  of  commissioners  adjourned  on  the  last 
of  July,  to  meet  on  the  1st  of  November,  1797.  I  had 
received  information  from  Mr.  Midler,  the  engraver,  at 
Stuttgard,  that  he  had  finished  the  engraving  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Bunker's  Hill,  and  waited  my  final  criticism  and 
orders." 

France  was  now  rushing  through  revolutions  and 
battles  to  empire,  and  at  last  to  political  emancipation, 
but  her  progress  was  every  where  marked  with  blood. 
Trumbull's  journey  was  attended  with  danger,  and  he 
went  through  scenes  which  demanded  all  his  military 
courage  and  boldness.  He  reached  Stuttgart,  and  found 
his  plates  of  '  Bunker's  Hill'  executed  to  his  satisfaction. 
He  returned  by  Paris  to  London  to  resume  his  duties 
with  the  commissioners.  When  the  commissioners  had 
done  their  work,  he  returned  to  America,  landing  at  New- 
York  on  the  27th  of  June,  1804. 

Trumbull  was  now  in  his  forty-ninth  year,  full  of 
vigor  and  enthusiasm  and  ripe  in  all  sorts  of  experience. 
He  visited  Boston  with  the  intention  of  opening  a  studio 
there,  but  hearing  that  Stuart  had  been  invited  there  by 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


157 


Mr.  Mason  and  his  friends,  Trumbull  returned  to  New- 
York.  "  Boston  was  then  a  small  town,  compared  with 
its  present  importance,  and  did  by  no  means  offer  an 
adequate  field  of  success  for  two  rival  artists.  I  there- 
fore immediately  returned  to  New- York,  took  a  furnished 
house  for  the  winter,  and  began  my  course  as  a  portrait 
painter." 

He  thus  speaks  of  his  success  :  "  I  was  immediately 
employed  by  the  government  of  the  city  to  paint  whole 
length  portraits  of  Mr.  Jay  and  of  Gen.  Hamilton,  (from 
the  bust  by  Carracchi,)  and  to  put  in  order  those  of  Gen. 
•Washington  and  Gov.  Clinton,  which  I  had  painted  in 
1791  and  '92.  The  four  now  hang  in  the  common  coun- 
cil room  of  the  city  hall.  I  had  also  a  good  share  of 
occupation  from  private  families,  and  at  this  period  were 
painted  two  portraits  which  are  now  in  the  Gallery  at 
New  Haven,  viz.  those  of  President  Dwight  and  Stephen 
Van  Rensselaer  ;  from  which  may  be  seen  what  was 
my  style  of  portrait  painting  at  that  period.  In  short, 
my  success  was  satisfactory." 

Trumbull  prosecuted  his  art  in  New- York  till  the 
15th  of  December,  1808,  when  he  sailed  once  more  for 
England.  The  following  January  he  met  a  cordial 
greeting  from  his  old  friend  West,  and  again  commenced 
painting.  No  great  success  seems  to  have  attended  him 
now  as  an  artist.  This  he  attributes  in  some  measure, 
and  with  truth  no  doubt,  to  the  suspicion  the  English 
had  that  he  was  sent  out  as  an  American  spy. — 
"  Large  pictures  were  not,  however,  the  only  works 
which  I  executed  during  these  four  years.  I  painted 
also  a  number  of  portraits,  for  which  good  prices  were 
paid,  but  not  to  an  amount  sufficient  to  defray  my  ex- 
penses.    I  was  thus  placed  under  the  necessity  of  bor- 


/ 


158  JOHN    TRUMBULL. 

rowing,  and  was  constantly  drifting  upon  the  fatal  lee- 
shore  of  debt.  Finding  this  to  be  unavoidable,  I  at 
length  gave  up  the  fruitless  struggle,  and  determined  to 
return  to  America,  and  had  written  to  Liverpool  to 
engage  my  passage  on  board  a  ship  which  was  about  to 
sail  from  that  port,  when  we  were  confounded  by  the 
news,  that  the  United  States  had,  on  the  18th  of  May, 
1812,  declared  war  against  Great  Britain,  and  that  all 
mutual  intercourse  was  at  end." 

On  the  restoration  of  peace,  Trumbull  lost  no  time 
in  returning  to  America.  He  arrived  at  New-York  in 
the  autumn  of  1815,  and  "took  a  house  in  Broadway, 
now  the  Globe  Hotel,  at  ^1200  per  year,  and  com- 
menced his  labours  with  good  prospect  of  success."  The 
1  st  of  February,  the  executor  was  offered  ^2,200  rent 
for  the  same  building,  and  Trumbull  was  turned  adrift. 
"  I  removed  in  May  to  Hudson  Square,  to  a  good  house 
at  a  reasonable  rent  and  in  a  beautiful  situation ;  but  I 
soon  found  myself  too  far  out  of  town  for  success  in 
portrait  painting,  and  business  languished.  Congress 
was  in  session,  and  my  friend.  Judge  Nicholson,  advised 
me  to  go  on  to  Washington,  and  there  offer  my  great, 
but  long  suspended  project  of  National  paintings  of  sub- 
jects from  the  Revolution.  Some  of  the  studies  were 
put  up  in  the  Hall  of  the  House,  and  in  one  of  the  de- 
bates on  the  subject,  Mr.  John  Randolph  was  ardently 
eloquent  in  his  commendation  of  the  work,  and  insisted 
that  I  should  be  employed  to  execute  the  whole.  The 
result  was,  that  a  resolution  finally  passed  both  houses, 
giving  authority  to  the  president,  '  to  employ  me  to  com- 
pose and  execute  four  paintings,  commemorative  of  the 
most  important  events  of  the  American  Revolution,  to 
be  placed,  when  finished,  in  the  Capitol  of  the  United 
States.' " 


JOHN  TRUMBULL.  j^g 

"The  choice  of  the  subjects,  and  the  size  of  each  pic- 
ture, was  left  to  the  President,  Mr.  Madison.  I  imme- 
diately waited  upon  the  President  to  receive  his  orders. 
The  size  was  first  discussed.  I  proposed  that  they 
should  be  six  feet  high  by  nine  long,  which  would  give 
to  the  figures  half  the  size  of  life.  The  President  at 
once  overruled  me.  '  Consider,  sir,'  said  he,  '  the  vast 
size  of  the  apartment  in  which  these  works  are  to  be 
placed — the  rotunda,  one  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  and 
the  same  in  height — paintings  of  the  size  which  you 
propose,  will  be  lost  in  such  a  space ;  they  must  be  of 
dimensions  to  admit  the  figures  to  be  the  size  of  life.'" 

"  This  was  so  settled,  and  when  we  came  to  speak  of 
the  subjects,  the  President  first  mentioned  the  battle  of 
Bunker's  Hill.  Observing  me  to  be  silent,  Mr.  Madi- 
son asked  if  I  did  not  approve  that.  My  reply  was, 
'  that  if  the  order  had  been  (as  I  had  hoped)  for  eight 
paintings,  I  should  have  named  that  first ;  but  as  there 
were  only  four  commanded,  I  thought  otherwise.  It  ap- 
peared to  me  that  there  were  two  military  subjects  par- 
amount to  all  others.  We  had,  in  the  course  of  the 
Revolution,  made  prisoners  of  two  entire  armies,  a  cir- 
cumstance almost  without  a  parallel,  and  of  course  the 
surrender  of  General  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga,  and  that  of 
Lord  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown,  seemed  to  me  indispensa- 
ble.' '  True,'  replied  he, '  you  are  right ;  and  what  for  the 
civil  subjects  ? '  '  The  Declaration  of  Independence,  of 
course.'  '  What  would  you  have  for  the  fourth  ?'  '  Sir,' 
I  replied,  '  I  have  thought  that  one  of  the  highest  moral 
lessons  ever  given  to  the  world,  was  that  presented  by 
the  conduct  of  the  Commander-in-chief,  in  resigning  his 
power  and  commission  as  he  did,  when  the  army,  per- 
haps, would  have  been  unanimously  with  him,  and  few 


IQQ  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

of  the  people  disposed  to  resist  his  retaining  the  power 
wliich  he  had  used  with  such  happy  success,  and  such 
irreproachable  moderation.  I  would  recommend,  then, 
the  resignation  of  Washington.'  After  a  momentary  si- 
lent reflection,  the  President  said,  '  I  believe  you  are 
right;  it  was  a  glorious  action.'" 

The  price  was  settled  at  eight  thousand  dollars  for 
each  painting. 

The  work  went  on  without  interruption,  and  was 
finished  in  1824.  The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  final 
settlement  of  my  account  at  the  treasury  of  the  United 
States : 

Declaration  of  Independence,  .  .  .  ;^8,000 
Surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis,  .         .  8,000 

Surrender  of  General  Burgoyne,   .         .         .        8,000 
Resignation  of  General  Washington  of  his  Com- 
mission to  Congress,      ....  8,000 


^32,000 


"  The  last  picture  was  scarcely  finished  in  April, 
1824,  when  I  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  my  wife,  who 
had  been  the  faithful  and  beloved  companion  of  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  twenty-four  years.  She  was  the  perfect 
personification  of  truth  and  sincerity — wise  to  counsel, 
kind  to  console — by  far  the  more  important  and  better 
moral  half  of  me,  and  withal,  beautiful  beyond  the  usual 
beauty  of  women !  And  as  if  this  calamity  was  not 
sufficient,  the  friend  who  had  kindly  advanced  money 
for  me  during  my  last  unfortunate  residence  in  Europe, 
found  it  necessary  from  the  state  of  his  own  affairs,  to 
ask  a  settlement.  It  was  made,  and  it  required  all  my 
means   to   meet   the   demand.     Every  thing,  however, 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


which  could  be  converted  into  money  was  disposed  of, 
at  whatever  sacrifice,  and  among  other  things,  land  was 
placed  in  the  account  at  ten  thousand  dollars,  which 
would  now  sell  for  one  hundred  thousand." 

These  great  national  pieces,  which  without  reler- 
ence  to  their  artistic  merit,  will  always  be  esteemed  the 
most  valuable  pictures  ever  executed  in  this  country, 
were  nearly  destroyed  by  neglect,  the  great  opening 
in  the  centre  of  the  Rotunda  rendered  the  atmosphere 
equally  damp  and  cold  as  the  weather  in  the  open 
square.  The  painter  remonstrated — but  he  says,  "  my 
remonstrances,  however,  were  all  in  vain ;  and  in  this 
situation  the  four  paintings  were  placed  and  remained, 
until,  in  1828,  the  change  on  their  surfaces  became  ob- 
vious and  conspicuous  to  all  who  saw  them,  and  occa- 
sioned the  resolution  of  the  House  of  Representatives, 
alluded  to  in  the  report  following,  which  I  addressed 
to  the  Speaker  of  the  House  on  the  9th  of  December, 
1 828.  At  last  the  Commissioner  of  Public  Buildings  was 
instructed  '  to  take  proper  measures  for  securing  the 
paintings  in  the  Rotunda  from  the  effect  of  dampness ' 
— under  the  direction  of  the  painter.  Several  things 
were  done.  1 .  All  the  paintings  were  taken  down  and 
perfectly  dried,  for  mildew  on  the  backs  was  rapidly 
rotting  the  canvas.  2.  Common  bees-wax  was  melted 
over  a  fire  with  an  equal  quantity  (in  bulk)  of  oil  of 
turpentine,  and  the  mixture  applied  to  the  back  of  each 
canvas,  and  rubbed  in  with  hot  irons  until  the  cloths 
were  perfectly  saturated.  3.  The  nitches  in  the  solid 
wall  were  carefully  plastered  with  hydraulic  cement,  to 
prevent  the  possible  exudation  of  any  moisture  from  the 
wall.  4.  Communication  made  for  the  external  air  with 
the  vacant  spaces,  behind  the  pictures  to  preserve  an 

11 


Ig^  JOHN  TRUMBULL. 

even  temperature.  5.  The  cloths  were  finally  strained 
upon  panels,  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  against  injury 
from  careless  or  intentional  blows  of  sticks,  canes,  &c. 
The  whole  being  then  restored  to  their  places,  were 
finally  cleaned  with  care,  and  slightly  re-varnished.  6. 
Curtains  were  hung  before  the  pictures.  7.  The  crypt, 
which  admitted  the  damp  air  below,  was  closed,  and 
an  alteration  made  in  the  sky-light.  8.  Self-closing 
baize  doors  were  hung  at  the  entrances.  The  Artist  re- 
grets that  he  was  not  authorized  to  provide  against  the 
danger  of  damage  by  violence,  whether  intended  or 
accidental.  "  One  of  the  paintings  testifies  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  their  being  approached  for  the  very  purpose  of 
doing  injury ;  the  right  foot  of  General  Morgan,  in  the 
picture  of  Saratoga,  was  cut  off  with  a  sharp  instrument, 
apparently  a  penknife.  I  have  repaired  the  wound,  but 
the  scar  remains  visible." 

"  My  contract  with  the  government  was  thus  honora- 
bly fulfilled  ;  the  paintings  were  placed  in  the  Capitol, 
and  so  far  as  my  skill  extended,  they  were  secured  from 
ruin  by  dampness.  My  debts  were  paid,  but  I  had  the 
world  before  me  to  begin  anew.  I  had  passed  the  term 
of  three-score  years  and  ten,  the  allotted  period  of  hu- 
man life.  My  best  friend  was  removed  from  me,  and  I 
had  no  child.  A  sense  of  loneliness  began  to  creep  over 
my  mind,  yet  my  hand  was  steady,  and  my  sight  good, 
and  I  felt  the  vis  vit(B  strong  within  me.  Why  then  sink 
down  into  premature  imbecility  ? 

"  I  resolved,  therefore,  to  begin  a  new  series  of  my 
paintings  of  revolutionary  subjects,  of  a  smaller  size 
than  those  in  the  Capitol,  and  to  solace  my  heavy  hours 
by  working  on  them.  I  chose  the  size  of  six  feet  by 
nine,  and  began.     Funds,  however,  began  to  diminish, 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


163 


and  I  sold  scraps  of  furniture,  fragments  of  plate,  &c. 
My  pictures  remained  on  my  hands  unsold,  and  to  all 
appearances  unsaleable.  At  length  the  thought  oc- 
curred to  me,  that  although  the  hope  of  a  sale  to  a  na- 
tion or  to  a  state  became  more  and  more  desperate  from 
day  to  day,  yet  in  an  age  of  speculation,  it  might  be  pos- 
sible that  some  society  might  be  willing  to  possess  these 
paintings,  on  condition  of  paying  me  a  life  annuity.  I  first 
thought  of  Harvard  College,  my  alma  mater,  but  she  was 
rich,  and  amply  endowed.  I  then  thought  of  Yale — 
although  not  my  alma,  yet  she  was  within  my  native 
state,  and  poor.  I  hinted  this  idea  to  a  friend,  (Mr.  Al- 
fred Smith,  of  Hartford,) — it  took — was  followed  up, 
and  resulted  in  a  contract." 

A  gallery,  fire-proof,  was  erected  by  the  College — 
his  pictures  arranged  under  the  direction  of  the  Artist, 
and  an  annuity  of  one  thousand  dollars  settled  upon  him 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Trumbull  also  made  one 
noble  condition  in  this  final  disposition  of  his  Works — 
which  would  alone  give  immortality  to  his  name.  After 
his -death,  the  entire  proceeds  of  the  exhibition  of  the 
Gallery  were  to  be  '  perpetually  appropriated  towards 
defraying  the  expense  of  educating  poor  scholars  in  Yale 
College.'     He  says  in  the  close  of  his  autobiography : 

"  Thus  I  derive  present  subsistence  principally  from 
this  source,  and  have  besides  the  happy  reflection,  that 
when  I  shall  have  gone  to  my  rest,  these  works  will  re- 
main a  source  of  good  to  many  a  poor,  perhaps  merit- 
orious and  excellent  man." 

Yes,  good  old  man  !  Thou  hast  gone  to  thy  rest,  and 
the  world  will  not  forget  thee.  Thou  hast  secured  to 
thyself  the  power  to  do  good  to  thousands  of  brave, 
noble  spirits,  that  will  yet  eat  the  bread  earned  by  thy 


]  (54  JOHN  TRUMBULL.. 

pencil.  And  when  the  names  of  all  thy  detractors  have 
one  by  one  moved  silently  and  sullenly  down  to  oblivion, 
the  unfortunate  but  lofty-spirited  men  thou  hast  cared 
for,  will  generation  after  generation  offer  incense  to  thy 
memory  and  write  their  gratitude  upon  thy  monument. 
I  see  going  forth  from  that  University  which  has  been 
and  shall  be  a  nursery  of  gifted  minds,  a  long  line  of 
men  who  will  be  the  teachers,  the  statesmen,  the  artists, 
and  the  writers  of  their  times.  They  will  transmit  the 
name  of  their  common  benefactor  from  age  to  age,  as 
the  poets  of  the  Avorld  have  the  name  of  the  Father  of 
Poets,  the  blind  old  man  who  sang  at  the  gates  of  cities 
for  his  bread  ! 

This  was  true  wisdom,  and  God  has  so  ordered  the 
course  of  human  affairs,  that  no  means  more  certain 
could  be  resorted  to  for  perpetuating  a  name.  Fortunes 
accumulated  by  the  toils  and  savings  of  a  long  life, 
are  often  scattered  in  an  hour  by  those  who  inherit  them, 
and  they  are  the  last  men  to  preserve  the  names  of  their 
benefactors.  Fortunes  are  often  given  away  to  be  ex- 
pended upon  frail,  transient  enterprises  that  leave  no  trace 
of  themselves  on  the  waste  of  time — a  single  column  may 
be  left  standing,  only  to  perpetuate  the  dishonor  of  the 
founder.  Girard's  name  will  live  while  that  stately 
edifice  which  overlooks  his  city  shall  stand — but  no  future 
generation  will  gaze  on  it  without  recalling  the  impious 
attempt  of  its  founder  to  shut  out  from  its  marble  halls 
the  holy  image  of  the  Founder  of  the  Christian  Religion. 
He  is  the  wise  man,  who  makes  a  legacy  to  posterity 
which  ages  only  make  more  valuable  as  they  pass  on — 
and  that  is  above  all  the  most  enlightened  ambition 
which  educates  for  itself  a  line  of  grateful  eulogists. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL.  |g5 

We  give  below  a  catalogue  of  the  Trumbull  Gallery, 
as  it  was  when  the  artist  arranged  his  pictures  : — 

No.     1.  The  Duke  of  Wellington. 

No.     2.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1792. 

No.     3.  The  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  June  17,  1777. 

No.     4.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1792. 

No.  5.  The  Death  of  General  Montgomery,  in  the  attack  of  Que- 
bec, December  31,  1775. 

No.     6.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1791. 

No.     7.  Battle  of  Princeton. 

No.     8.  Five  Heads  of  Ladies,  Oil  Miniatures,  1792. 

No.     9.  Declaration  of  Independence,  July  4,  1776. 

No.  10.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1792. 

No.  11.  Capture  of  the  Hessians  at  Trenton,  December  26,  1776. 

No.  12.  Four  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1791. 

No.  13.  Copy  of  the  Transfiguration,  the  celebrated  master-piece 
of  Raphael. 

No.  14.  Copy  of  Correggio's  celebrated  picture,  called  the  St.  Je- 
rome at  Parma,  painted  in  Tothill-fields  prison. 

No.  15.  Copy  of  Raphael's  Madonna  Delia  Sedula. 

No.  16.  Copy  of  the  Communion  of  St.  Jerome,  the  master-piece 
of  Dominichino. 

No.  17.  Portrait  of  Col.  Trumbull,  by  Waldo  &  Jewitt. 

No.  -18.  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Trumbull. 

No.  19.   Preparing  the  Body  of  Christ  for  the  Tomb. 

No.  20.  Copy  of  the  Madonna  au  Corset  Rouge,  by  Raphael.  Lon- 
don, 1801. 

No.  21.  Our  Saviour  bearing  the  Cross,  and  sinking  under  its 
weight.     New- York,  1826. 

No.  22.  Four  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1791. 

No.  23.  Death  of  General  Mercer,  at  the  Battle  of  Princeton,  Jan. 
3,  1777. 

No.  24.  Five  Heads  of  Ladies,  Oil  Miniatures,  1792. 

No.  25.  Surrender  of  General  Burgoyne,  Oct.  16,  1777. 

No.  26.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1791. 

No.  27.  The  Death  of  Paulus  Emilius,  at  the  battle  of  Cannset 
The  earliest  composition  of  the  Artist. 

No.  28.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1793. 

No.  29.  Surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis,  Oct.  19,  1781. 


Jgg  JOHN  TRUMBULL, 

No.  30.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1827. 

No.  31.  Resignation  of  General  Washington,  Dec.  23,  1783. 
Washington,  1827. 

No.  32.  Five  Heads,  Oil  Miniatures,  1790. 

No.  33.  Hon.  Stephen  Van  Rensselaer. 

No,  34.  The  Woman  Accused  of  Adultery,  St.  John,  viii.  2 — 11. 
London,  1811. 

No.  35.  St.  John  and  Lamb.  From  Memory  of  an  exquisite  pic- 
ture by  Murillo,  in  possession  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  Lon- 
don, 1800. 

No.  36.  Portrait  of  President  Washington — head  the  size  of  life. 
Philadelphia,  May,  1793. 

No.  37.  Earl  of  Angus  Conferring  Knighthood  on  De  Wilton — a 
scene  from  Scott's  Marmion.     London,  1810. 

No.  38.  Portrait  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  copied  in  1832,  from  Trum- 
bull's  original,  in  the  possession  of  Gov.  Wolcott. 

No.  39,  Holy  Family.     London,  1802. 

No.  40.  President  Dwight. 

No.  41.  Portrait  of  General  Washington — whole  length,  the  size  of 
life — painted  in  Philadelphia  in  1792,  for  the  city  of  Charleston. 

No.  42.  Gov.  Trumbull,  Sen. 

No.  43.  Infant  Saviour  and  St.  John.     London,  1801. 

No.  44.  Portrait  of  Rufus  King — London,  during  his  mission,  1800. 

No.  45.  Lamderg  and  Gelchossa.  From  Ossian's  poems.  London, 
1809. 

No.  46.  Portrait  of  Gov.  Gore — London.  Both  were  Commission- 
ers for  the  execution  of  9th  article  of  Jay's  Treaty,  1800. 

No.  47.  Maternal  Tenderness.     London,  1809. 

No.  48.  Our  Saviour  with  Little  Children.     London,  1812. 

No.  49.  Peter  the  Great  at  the  Capture  of  Narva.     London,  1811. 

No.  50.  The  Holy  Family. 

No.  51.  Joshua  at  the  Battle  of  Ai,  attended  by  Death. 

No.  52.  The  Last  Family  which  Perished  in  the  Deluge. 

No,  53.  "  I  was  in  Prison,  and  ye  visited  me."     Matt.  xxx.  36. 

No.  54.  Copy  of  the  Transfiguration . 

No.  55.  The  Communion  of  St.  Jerome.  Copied  from  Domini- 
chino. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


167 


Here  we  are  obliged  to  leave  Trumbull's  autobiogra- 
phy, which  has  thus  far  been  our  guide,  and  from  other 
sources  draw  the  sketch  of  his  few  remaining  years. 

An  Association  had  been  early  formed  in  New- York, 
for  Promoting  the  Fine  Arts,  and  Chancellor  Livingston 
elected  President.  For  a  considerable  period  the  Insti- 
tution was  sustained  with  some  vigor,  but  it  finally  lost 
its  vitality,  and  in  1816  it  had  nearly  ceased  to  exist. 
During  that  year,  De  Witt  Clinton,  who  was  then  Pre- 
sident of  the  Association,  moved  by  those  lofty  motives 
by  which  he  was  always  guided,  originated  and  perfected 
a  plan  by  which  the  Association  was  revived  under  the 
name  of  the  American  Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  He 
felt  that  delicacy  required  him  to  resign  the  Presidency, 
and  at  his  nomination,  Trumbull  was  elected  President. 
Dunlap,  who  seems  to  have  owed  this  celebrated  Painter 
a  very  malignant  grudge,  and  who  has  often  gone  out  of 
his  way  to  gratify  it  in  his  work,  would  have  us  believe 
that  the  election  of  Trumbull  gave  general  dissatisfac- 
tion to  the  Artists  of  the  country,  and  was  fatal  to  the 
Academy  itself.  But  I  cannot  find  in  the  history  of 
those  times,  nor  from  the  testimony  of  living  Artists, 
any  thing  to  corroborate  such  an  idea.  Trumbull 
was  almost  universally  appreciated,  and  very  generally 
beloved.  He  continued  to  occupy  the  President's  chair, 
I  believe,  until  the  formation  of  the  National  Academy 
of  Design,  which  went  into  operation  in  1825,  with 
Samuel  F.  B.  Morse  for  President. 

During  this  period  probably  no  artist  in  this  country 
gave  instruction  to  so  many  scholars,  and  certainly  no  one 
displayed  a  warmer  zeal  in  the  cause  of  Art.  In  a  future 
number  we  intend  to  give  the  History  of  American 
Academies  for  the  Promotion  of  the  Fine  Arts — since  a 


]g3  JOHN   TRUMBULL. 

knowledge  of  the  history  of  such  Institutions  is  deemed 
necessary  to  a  proper  appreciation  of  our  living  Artists. 
It  will  then  become  necessary  to  give  some  passages 
from  the  history  of  Col.  Trumbull,  which  are  here 
omitted. 

With  the  hope  of  receiving  some  valuable  informa- 
tion about  the  last  days  of  Col.  Trumbull,  I  addressed  a 
note  a  few  days  ago  to  Prof.  Silliman  of  New  Haven, 
who  has  courteously  forwarded  me  the  following  reply : 

New  Haven,  March  17th,  1846. 
Dear  Sir  : — 

I  fear  I  am  now  too  late  to  do  you  any  good,  but  absence  from 
home,  and  some  indisposition  since  my  return  on  Saturday  night, 
have  prevented  my  replying  sooner.  Col.  Trumbull  wrote  most  of 
his  autobiography  in  my  house,  to  which  he  was  invited  by  Mrs. 
Silliman  who  was  his  niece,  and  myself.  He  came  to  us  in  1837, 
and  remained  four  years  in  our  family.  He  then  returned  to  New- 
York,  to  be  near  his  favorite  physician,  Dr.  Washington,  and  there 
remained  until  his  death,  Nov.  10,  1843.  By  his  own  request,  his 
remains  were  brought  to  my  house,  whence  his  funeral  proceeded, 
Saturday,  Nov.  13. 

His  remains  were  borne  to  the  College  Chapel,  where  an  appro- 
priate and  feeling  historical  discourse  was  delivered  by  the  Rev. 
Prof.  Fitch,  from  Gen.  xxv.  8,  9,  10.  Eight  of  our  principal  citi- 
zens were  bearers — the  students  and  citizens  formed  a  procession 
to  the  stone  tomb,  beneath  the  Trumbull  Gallery,  where  his  remains 
were  laid  beside  those  of  his  wife. 

His  pictures  he  called  his  children,  and  the  Gallery  he  wished  to 
be  his  monument.  The  vault  was  left  open  under  a  proper  guard, 
through  the  night  and  the  next  day,  that  the  citizens  might  have  the 
opportunity  of  looking  into  it.  After  the  massy  lid — a  single  stone 
eight  feet  by  five — was  let  down,  the  following  inscription  was  placed 
upon  it  in  deeply  cut  letters  : — 

The  Tomb  of  *  John  Trumbull,  and  of  Sarah,  his  wife, 
Closed  Nov.  13,  1843. 

^Tfte  IPatrtot  ^vtint  unti  the  iFrientr  ot  as^ashinaton. 

•  On  the  coffin-lids:  John  Trumbull,  died  Nov.  10,  1843,  aged  87  years,  5 
months  and  4  days.  Sarah,  the  wife  of  John  Trumbull,  died  April  12,  1824, 
aged  51  years. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL. 


169 


• '  As  this  stone  is  four  or  five  feet  below  the  level  of  the  ground, 
and  is  covered  by  the  floor  of  the  room,  I  caused  a  tablet  of  black 
marble  to  be  placed  as  a  pannel  beneath  the  portraits  of  the  Artist 
and  of  his  wife  ;  and  the  full  length  of  Washington,  which  hangs  above 
them  in  the  Gallery,  and  a  trophy  sword  taken  by  Trumbull  in  the 
battle  of  Pike  Island  with  a  pallet  and  pencil  are  to  hang  between  the 
two  lower  portraits. 

You  will  then  observe  the  appropriateness  of  the  following  In- 
scription.    He  said  to  me,  place  me  at  the  foot  of  my  great  master. 


GO 

»  Si 

a  3 

^  Q- 

^' 

S.  T. 

3    H 

z:cr 

et 

Inscription 

on 

Marble. 


COL.  JOHN  TRUMBULL, 

Painter  and  Artist,  friend  and  Aid  of  Washington,  died  in  New- York, 

Nov.  10,  1843,  aged  88. 

He  reposes  in  a  Sepulchre  built  by  himself,  beneath  this  Monumental  Gallery, 

where  he  deposited  the  remains  of  SARAH,  his  wife,  who 

died  in  New- York,  April  12,  1824. 


To  his  Country  he  gave  his  Sword  and  his  Pencil. 


170  •'OHN  TRUMBULL. 

He  retained  the  love  of  his  art  almost  to  the  last.  The  Gallery 
contains  several  very  good  pictures  painted  after  he  was  seventy- 
eight  years  old,  and  some  after  he  was  eighty.  The  copies  of  the 
Transfiguration,  and  of  the  Death  of  St.  Jerome,  were  the  last — ^the 
latter  the  very  last — and  he  found  some  difficulty  in  following  out  the 
minuticB  of  the  drapery,  owing  to  the  decay  of  his  vision,  but  both 
these  pictures  are  surprising  productions  for  an  artist  of  eighty-two  to 
eighty-three  years  of  age,  with  only  one  useful  eye.  The  social 
feelings  of  Col.  T.  were  vivid,  and  his  conversational  powers  extra- 
ordinary. His  long  and  varied  life,  abounding  in  changes,  and 
passed  among  the  great  men  of  the  age,  furnished  him  with  a  rich 
fund  of  historical  anecdote,  which  he  was  accustomed  to  communicate 
to  his  friends  in  his  familiar  conversations. 

With  these  he  could,  had  he  chosen  to  do  so,  have  enriched  his  au- 
tobiography, and  probably  many  of  his  readers  would  have  preferred 
them  to  the  grave  details  of  important  events.  He  used  to  mention 
that  in  the  composition  of  the  sortie  of  Gibraltar,  he  wanted  a  sub- 
ject for  his  dying  Spanish  Cavalier,  Don  Jos.  Barboza — who  appears 
fallen  in  the  front  of  the  picture,  with  the  hilt  of  his  broken  sword 
still  grasped  in  his  hand,  and  refusing  the  succor  offered  him  by  Gen. 
Elliott.  At  this  crisis  of  the  picture,  who  should  come  into  the  paint- 
ing room,  but  the  afterwards  celebrated  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  then 
a  rising  young  artist.  Trumbull  familiarly  accosted  him,  "  Come, 
Lawrence,  lie  down  for  my  dying  Spaniard" — which  he  promptly 
did  ;  and  this  is  the  origin  of  that  fine  figure,  not,  however,  intended 
for  a  portrait.  He  left  some  very  beautiful  pictures,  not  the  property 
of  the  Gallery.  Many  of  them  were  sold  for  the  payment  of  his 
debts,  or  for  the  payment  of  the  two  residuary  legacies — and  not  a 
small  number  were  in  the  like  manner  distributed. 

Five  copies,  nine  feet  by  six,  of  historical  pictures  were  purchased 
by  the  Wadsworth  Atheneum,  at  Hartford,  and  now  adorn  that  fine  and 
growing  Institution. 

A  large  number  of  first  rate  engravings  of  some  of  his  principal 
historical  pictures  are  still  unsold,  and  remain  in  the  hands  of  his  heirs 
or  legatees.  The  neglect  of  these  prints — executed  at  a  vast  expense, 
and  in  a  very  superior  style,  was  a  subject  of  much  painful  reflec- 
tion and  severe  remark  from  the  venerable  Artist.  A  bosom  pin, 
surrounded  by  pearls,  and  containing  a  braided  lock  of  Washington's* 

*  Given  to  him  by  Washington's  own  hand,  in  consequence  of  his  having 
painted  Mrs.  Washington. 


JOHN  TRUMBULL.  lYl 

hair,  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  Washington,  of  New- York,  to 
whom  he  presented  it,  instead  of  leaving  it  in  his  own  Picture  Gallery, 
which  he  had  originally  intended.  His  veneration  of  Washington 
was  very  great ;  he  regarded  him  as  the  greatest  and  best  of  men. 
Many  letters  of  Washington,  some  of  them  long,  and  all  of  them 
parental  and  affectionate,  are  among  his  papers. 

I  forbear  to  add  other  things,  supposing  that  I  may  already  have 
exceeded  your  limits  of  time  and  space,  and  remain,  dear  friend, 
Yours,  very  respectfully  and  truly, 

B.    SiLLIMAN. 

C.  Edwards  Lester,  Esq. 

We  have  had  artists  perhaps  who  surpassed  Trumbull 
in  genius.  West  was  a  greater  painter.  Stuart  and 
Copelj  executed  better  portraits,  and  Allston  moved  in  a 
higher  field  of  Art.  But  to  no  one  of  them  does  the  coun- 
try owe  so  much  as  to  Trumbull.  Congress  paid  grudg- 
ingly ;^8000  a  piece  for  his  four  great  Paintings  in  the 
Rotunda — but  what  Representative  of  the  American  peo- 
ple would  dare  now  to  rise  in  his  place  and  propose  to 
sell  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  I  care  not  what 
sum  were  offered  for  it  ?  It  is  the  only  Picture  in  the 
world  which  has  prerseved  the  forms  and  expressions  of  the 
great  fathers  of  American  Liberty — and  it  would  be  sa- 
crilege to  ruin  it,  because  it  is  above  all  price.  As  ages 
roll  by,  the  wonderful  events  those  Pictures  commemo- 
rate will  be  graven  more  deeply  in  the  minds  of  men,  and 
to  each  successive  generation  they  will  become  more  in- 
valuable. The  early  historical  Painters  of  Nations  have 
always  ranked  among  their  early  Historians — they  stand 
side  by  side  at  the  fountains  of  History,  to  rescue  those 
sacred  forms  and  relics  which  but  for  their  holy  vigilance 
would  have  passed  away  forever. 


/..-.•/ 


[©[£     ^j'liAM  74.  - 


FROi:  A    3'ORTRAIT    BT    HIMSELF 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


South  Caromna  has  had  the  honor  of  producing  one  of  our  greatest 
'  lights  of  fame,'  who  but  recently  died  at  Cambridge,  full  of  years  and 
of  honors  ;  and  well  might  she  also  mourn  the  untimely  fate  of  another  less 
fortunate  son,  cut  off  prematurely  at  the  very  dawning  of  his  fame,  who,  had 
he  lived,  would  have  earned  a  name  in  the  annals  of  his  art  as  proud  as 
that  of  Allston  ;  the  gifted,  generous,  lost  De  Veaux  ! 

De  Leon's  Address. 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


Our  sketches  of  Artists  who  have  'rested  from  their 
labors,'  will  be  closed  by  a  brief  account  of  the  gifted, 
but  unfortunate  De  Veaux,  who  fell  a  victim  to  Tyranny 
in  Rome  two  years  ago. 

These  records,  which  must  otherwise  have  been  in- 
complete, will  now  be  enriched  from  the  valuable  materi- 
als preserved  in  a  beautiful  Memoir  of  the  Artist,  just  pub- 
lished in  Columbia,  S.  C,  by  the  learned  Dr.  Robert  W. 
Gibbs,  who  has  kindly  furnished  me  an  early  copy. 

Captain  De  Veaux,  the  grandfather  of  the  Artist,  was 
a  Frenchman,  who  held  a  commission  in  the  army  of  the 
Revolution.  He  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of 
Savannah,  and  died  in  the  service  of  the  United  States,  at 
Fort  Johnson,  in  Charleston  Harbor.  The  Artist's  father 
was  a  seaman,  and  died  at  the  hands  of  pirates,  in  1 822. 

"  In  childhood,"  says  the  Memoir,  "  James  had  but 
few  opportunities,  and  received  the  rudiments  of  an  Eng- 
lish education  at  a  free  school,  kept  on  the  Lancasterian 
system.  His  worthy  mother,  whose  five  children  were 
early  deprived  of  their  principal  support,  having  them 
dependent  on  her  personal  labor,  could  not  afford  that 
he  should  remain  at  school,  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen 
he  was  placed  as  a  clerk  in  the  bookstore  of  Edwin 
Gibbes.  Here  he  remained  several  years,  discharging 
the  drudgery  of  a  shop-boy,  but  attracting  the  notice  of 
visitors  by  his  quickness  in  attendance  and  good  humor 


176  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

and  propriety  of  behaviour.  He  was  fond  of  books,  and 
employed  his  intervals  of  business  in  reading  biography 
and  works  of  fiction.  His  perception  of  the  hidicrous  was 
acute  in  a  remarkable  degree.  His  imagination  was 
vivid,  and  his  amusing  sketches  of  men  and  things  with 
his  boyish  pencil,  first  attracted  the  notice  of  that  genius 
which  exhibited  itself  so  prominently  in  maturer  years. 
The  late  William  Hasell  Gibbes  observed  with  a  lively 
feeling  the  indications  of  a  talent  for  drawing  in  the 
young  clerk,  and  the  late  Major  A.  Garden  took  a  sim- 
ilar interest  in  him,  and  encouraged  him  to  new  efforts  by 
carrying  to  the  store  drawings  and  engravings  for  his  use 
in  copying.  Among  the  earliest  of  his  pencil  sketches 
is  a  truthful  likeness  of  the  venerable  Major  now  in  my 
possession." 

"  Mr.  Gibbes  forwarded  to  his  connection  and  friend, 
the  eminent  Washington  AUston,  a  Sketch  of  '  Joseph 
and  his  Brethren,^  for  an  opinion  as  to  its  merits.  He 
expressed  much  satisfaction  with  it,  and  earnestly  advised 
the  education  of  the  youth  who  had  given  such  an  indi- 
cation of  genius  for  Art.  Upon  this  Mr.  Gibbes  applied 
to  Allston  to  take  him  as  a  pupil ;  but,  as  he  was  not  in 
the  habit  of  receiving  students,  he  advised  that  he  should 
be  placed  with  Mr.  Harding,  then  in  Washington,  or 
sent  to  Philadelphia." 

"  The  earliest  notice  I  have  of  him,  in  the  letters  of 
my  late  father,  is  one  of  March,  1 829,  where  he  says : 

'  It  will  gratify  you  and  your  brother  to  learn  that  I 
am  using  my  most  strenuous  efforts  to  raise  a  subscrip- 
tion among  my  friends  for  James  De  Veaux,  either  to 
go  to  Washington,  to  a  particular  friend  of  Washington 
Allston's,  an  artist  of  very  high  character,  for  instruction 
and  qualification  as  such,  or  to  place  him  under  the  di- 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX.  J<y7 

rection  of  Mr.  Bowman,  also  a  painter  of  reputation,  who 
is  taking  portraits  next  door  to  us,  and  has  taken  a  pre- 
possession in  favor  of  the  poor  boy.  1  have  collected 
two  hundred  dollars  for  him,  but  must  strive  to  get 
more.  He  improves  daily,  and  is  delighted  and  grateful 
for  what  we  are  doing  for  him.' " 

This  appeal  seems  to  have  been  responded  to  by  a 
few  generous  men ;  and  he  soon  after  went  to  Philadel- 
phia, where  "  he  remained  some  time  under  the  instruc- 
tion of  John  R.  Smith,  the  veteran  teacher  of  drawing. 
He  became  a  private  pupil  of  Inman,  and  enjoyed  also 
the  kind  advice  and  assistance  of  Sully.  From  these 
distinguished  Artists  he  derived  his  first  knowledge  of 
color.  While  with  Mr.  Inman  he  improved  very  much, 
and  his  early  pictures  show  the  faithfulness  of  study  of 
his  style — they  are  much  after  the  manner  of  his  pre- 
ceptor." 

In  the  fall  of  1 832,  when  he  was  at  the  age  of  twenty, 
"  I  induced  him,"  says  his  Biographer,  "  to  commence 
his  public  career  as  a  portrait  painter,  in  Columbia,  S. 
C,  where,  at  the  moderate  charge  of  thirty  dollars,  he 
was  successful  in  procuring  full  employment,  and  in  giv- 
ing satisfaction  to  most  of  his  patrons.  During  the  ses- 
sion of  the  Convention  for  Nullification,  soon  after  his 
arrival  in  November,  he  had  among  his  sitters  the  Hon. 
Geo.  McDufifie,  Hon.  Henry  Deas,  Dr.  Thomas  Cooper, 
F.  W.  Pickens,  Esq.,  Gen.  J.  B.  Earle,  Hon.  W.  D. 
Martin,  and  other  distinguished  men,  whose  portraits  are 
still  valued  as  correct  likenesses.  He  painted,  during 
the  year  following,  about  thirty  portraits,  when  his  in- 
creasing reputation  enabled  him  to  advance  to  forty  dol- 
lars, and  the  year  after  he  received  fifty  dollars.  With 
the  exception  of  a  short  visit  to  the  neighboring  town 


JYg  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

of  Camden,  where  he  was  kindly  received  and  liberally 
patronized,  he  continued  at  Columbia  until  the  fall  of 
1835,  when  he  made  a  visit  to  his  native  city  of 
Charleston.  He  remained  the  winter  here,  and  painted 
a  fine  portrait  of  the  late  Dr.  Wm.  Read,  one  of  Rev.r? 
Wm.  Capers,  Dr.  Philip  G.  Prioleau,  Dr.  Thomas  G.. 
Prioleau,  W.  Ogilby,  Esq.,  R.  Barnwell  Smith,  Esq., 
and  a  few  others ;  but  artists  with  less  merit  and  no  claims 
on  the  community,  were  more  successful,  and  he  returned 
soon  after  to  Columbia.  In  Charleston  he  enjoyed  the 
friendship  and  kind  consideration  of  the  gifted  and 
highly  accomplished  Frazer.  *  *  *  The  worthy  and 
distinguished  White  took  much  concern  for  his  welfare.". 

"  For  a  long  time  subsequently  he  gave  way  to  feel- 
ings of  great  despondency,  became  spiritless  and  gloomy, 
and  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  idea  that  he  was 
doomed  to  failure  in  his  profession.  In  fact  he  seriously 
requested  me  to  look  about  for  some  other  employment,, 
in  which  he  might  earn  a  support  for  his  family.  He 
had  an  excitable  temperament  and  a  morbid  sensibility, 
and  while  a  little  encouragement  was  a  strong  stimulus 
to  his  efforts,  the  slightest  depressing  effect  instantly 
prostrated  his  exertions.  It  was  painful  to  witness  the 
deep  suffering  he  underwent,  when  some  fancied  slight 
or  ill-natured  criticism  of  his  works  came  to  his  sensitive 
ear.  At  times  there  was  strong  reason  to  fear  that  his 
fits  of  abstraction  and  gloom  would  end  in  a  permanent 
darkness  of  his  fine  luminous  intellect." 

He  had  many  generous  friends.  Col.  W.  Hampton 
had  the  honor  of  placing  at  his  disposal  the  "  means  of 
visiting  the  collections  of  art  in  England  and  the  Galle- 
ries of  the  Louvre.  Overwhelmed  with  emotion  at  the 
unexpected  and  noble  liberality  of  his  friend,  De  Veaux's 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


179 


grateful  feelings  were  excessive,  and  his  delight  at  the 
prospect  of  the  personal  examination  and  study  of  the 
old  Masters  of  his  Art  excited  him  to  an  enthusiasm  which 
gave  buoyancy  to  his  spirits  and  sparkled  in  his  conver- 
sation. His  earnings  he  freely  contributed  to  the  support 
of  his  mother  and  family,  and  his  w^hole  desire  for  money 
seemed  to  be  on  their  account.  His  purse  was  always 
open  to  the  needy,  and  while  a  dollar  was  left,  the  ap- 
plicant for  charity  was  never  refused." 

"  Feeling  sensibly  the  wants  of  his  own  condition  and 
that  of  his  family,  he  had  a  heart  to  appreciate  the  ne- 
cessities of  others.  I  well  remember,  that  when  he  re- 
ceived the  first  fruits  of  his  pencil,  and  was  in  possession 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars,  he  forwarded 
one  hundred  of  it  to  save  from  ruin  a  youne;  engraver 
in  Philadelphia,  who  had  married  before  he  had  means 
of  support  for  a  family,  and  become  deeply  involved  in 
debt." 

Dr.  Gibbes  gives  a  touching  description  of  the  pecu- 
liar traits  of  feeling  De  Veaux's  sensitive  spirit  had  to 
pass.  He  draws  a  striking  parallel  between  the  encour- 
agement extended  to  art  in  Europe  and  America. 

"  In  Europe,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  died,  leaving  sixty 
thousand  pounds,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  accumula- 
ted wealth,  though  his  generous  liberality  made  him 
squander  it.  George  HI.  gave  Benjamin  West  an  an- 
nual allowance  of  one  thousand  pounds  for  the  sake  of 
art,  and  Louis  Philippe  has  another  worthy  American 
artist  permanently  employed  in  his  service.  Our  coun- 
try is  highly  honored  in  having  furnished  to  England 
and  France  her  sons  of  genius,  who  are  more  apprecia- 
ted there  than  in  their  own  land !  In  the  United  States, 
who  of  our  artists,  from  Gilbert  Stuart  to  the  present 


180  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

day,  has  earned  more  than  a  bare  support  ?  And  how 
many  have  failed  to  do  that  ?  Too  often  is  want  the 
accompaniment  of  merit  here,  where  the  fine  arts  are 
appreciated  only  on  utilitarian  principles,  and  paintings 
are  valued  for  the  beauty  of  their  frames,  or  as  a  neces- 
sary relief  to  the  monotony  of  a  parlor  wall." 

"  In  Charleston  an  effort  was  once  made  to  establish 
an  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  and  we  find  in  history  a  com- 
plimentary notice  of  it, 

,■  '  but  e'en  the  spot 


Where  it  once  stood  is  now  forgot.' '' 

In  the  summer  of  1836,  De  Veaux  sailed  for  Europe, 
in  company  with  Miss  Martineau,  Lieut.  Wilkes,  and  a 
brother  Artist,  who  has  given  a  lively  description  of  his 
friend's  history  at  this  time.  He  says,  "  He  was  fond  of 
fun — of  the  burlesque — and  with  me  familiar  enough,  but 
his  manner  was  cold  and  dignified  to  strangers.  I  was 
highly  amused  with  his  account  of  an  interview  with  a 
good  old  Liverpool  merchant,  Mr.  Forde,  upon  whom  he 
had  a  letter  of  credit  from  Col.  H.  'But,'  said  Mr.  F., 
*Col.  H.  does  not  limit  your  credit  in  this  letter.'  '  I  did 
not  expect  he  would,  sir,'  or  '  Certainly  not,  sir,'  was 
the  calm  reply  of  our  dignified  friend."  They  journeyed 
leisurely  up  to  London,  visiting  all  the  charming  or  me- 
morable spots  on  their  way.  Rodgers  the  Poet  had  ihe 
best  collection  of  Reynolds'  pictures  in  England,  and  he 
received  De  Veaux  with  great  kindness  and  hospitality. 
He  had  every  facility  for  visiting  the  galleries  of  England, 
and  received  attention  from  many  distinguished  men. 
During  his  residence  in  Great  Britain,  however,  he  paint- 
ed nothing.  Much  of  the  time  he  was  the  prey  of  mel- 
ancholy. 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX.      .  JgJ 

"  He  used  to  be,  while  in  Europe,  depressed  in  spirits. 
He  sate  the  picture  of  gloom — could  not  be  roused — took 
no  interest  in  objects  of  curiosity  or  amusement,  with 
which  all  Paris  abounded,  and  wished  to  return  at  once 
10  America.    This  was  in  the  winter  of  ^3(^  and  '37."  *  *  * 

"  He  copied  chiefly  heads  from  Rubens  and  Vandyke 
in  the  Louvre,  and  did  so  with  great  facility,  preserving 
a  general  and  beautiful  resemblance,  only  perhaps  some- 
times making  the  copy  more  effeminate  as  well  as  prettier 
than  the  original, — this  he  inclined  always  to  do  in  his 
portraits.  He  disliked  to  see  a  homely  portrait  of  an 
original.  In  the  evening  he  drew  at  the  Life-school  in 
crayon,  and  his  drawings  were  among  the  most  elegant 
of  the  number,  fifty  to  seventy  in  the  school.  He  paint- 
ed but  two  or  three  portraits  in  Paris,— of  myself,  his 
French  teacher,  and  a  friend.  After  the  close  of  the 
Louvre  to  prepare  for  a  modern  exhibition,  De  Veaux 
and  I  hired  an  atelier,  and  painted  together,  but  he  seemed 
to  feel  the  value  of  drawing  the  human  figure,  and  often 
attended  the  day  Academy  also." 

Says  Dr.  Gibbes,  "  While  in  Paris,  De  Veaux  painted 
a  fine  copy  of  '  Vandyke  by  himself,^  which  he  present- 
ed to  James  H.  Hammond,  Esq. — a  copy  of  '  Titian's 
Mistress,''  purchased  by  Doctor  Arrott  of  Philadelphia, 
and  a  copy  of  '  The  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine,^  by 
Correggio.  This  was  sold  to  the  Hon.  A.  Stevenson, 
then  our  Minister  to  England.  He  carried  it  to  London, 
where  it  was  greatly  admired,  and  Wilkie  told  Mr. 
Stevenson  he  considered  it  the  best  copy  he  had  ever  seen, 
of  a  picture  frequently,  copied.  It  also  attracted  the 
notice  of  Landseer,  who  pasied  a  high  encomium  on  its 
merits." 

The  following  extracts  w^  taake  from  the  Painter's 
Journal. 


)  82  .         JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

"  21st  May.  Arrived  in  Antwerp. — Cathedral — 
Citadel — St.  Jaques — Rubens'  tomb,  prepared  by  him- 
self jfifteen  years  before  his  death — a  picture  placed  over 
it  by  him  two  years  belbre  he  died — pictures  by  Vandyke 
in  the  same  place — dead  Christ — and  two  profiles  on  the 
same  canvas.  Cathedral  five  hundred  English  feet  in 
height — went  to  the  top,  the  most  gorgeous  steeple  in 
the  world — saw  Ireland  in  the  distance." 

"  St.  Jaques,  the  dead  figure  of  Christ  by  Vandyke  I 
prefer  to  all  the  other  dead  Christs  I  have  ever  seen — 
there  is  but  little  in  it,  but  all  perfect — the  flesh,  white  dra- 
pery, solemn  sky,  are  in  most  perfect  harmony; — two 
heads  by  him  in  the  same  church  in  one  canvas,  profiles — 
I  thmk  two  of  his  best.  At  Mount  Calvary  or  Church  of 
St.  Luke,  the  '  Christ  Scourged,^  painted  by  Rubens,  is 
my  favorite — the  figure  of  the  Saviour  is  just  as  we  ex- 
pect to  find  it — enduring  the  whip  without  a  murmur — 
the  figure  on  the  left  is  a  little  strained  in  posture,  the 
right  leg  rather  affectedly  disposed  ;  but  one  on  the  right 
with  one  foot  braced  against  the  leg  of  Christ,  is  bursting 
with  hatred,  and  throws  his  whole  force  into  each  blow — 
the  color  is  glowing.  There  are  several  others  here  by 
Rubens,  very  excellent." 

With  occasional  journeys  to  neighboring  capitals, 
he  remained  at  Paris  till  the  spring  of  1838.  "Left 
Havre  9th  May,  1838,  and  after  a  delightful  voyage  of 
twenty-seven  days,  arrived  at  New- York.  Here  is  an 
end  to  my  voyage  and  absence  of  twenty-one  months, 
and  though  delighted  to  see  my  native  land,  yet  I  confess 
I  am  sighing  after  that  I  have  left  behind  me.  God 
grant  I  may  go  eastward  once  more  before  I  die." 

He  spent  the  summer  in  New- York,  and  "  painted  in 
the  rooms  of  Mr.  Shegogue  a  fine  portrait  of  his  friend 
Col.  John  S.  Manning,  of  S.  C,  and  was  invited  by  him 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX.  1 33 

to  his  residence  in  Clarendon  to  take  the  likenesses  of 
several  of  his  family." 

"  In  Clarendon  he  remained  until  the  winter  of 
1839,  fully  occupied,  and  turning  off  from  his  easel  many 
of  his  best  portraits,  enjoying  himself  in  a  delightful 
society,  which  appreciated  him  highly,  and  having  every 
thing  to  encourage  him  in  the  prospects  of  his  profes- 
sion. Having  completed  his  engagements,  he  returned 
to  Columbia,  and  spent  the  winter  and  spring  in  dis- 
charging some  obligations  there.  The  summer  of  1840 
was  passed  chiefly  in  Abingdon,  Va.,  where  he  was 
invited  to  paint  portraits  for  the  family  of  the  late  Gen. 
Preston.  He  made  a  short  visit  to  New- York,  and 
returned  to  Columbia  in  November." 

He  continued  the  practice  of  his  profession  at  Colum- 
bia till  the  summer  of  1841.  He  now  ranked  high  as  a 
painter,  and  received  ^100  for  his  portraits,  with  full 
occupation.  During  his  visit  to  America,  he  executed 
forty-three  portraits — he  had  before  this  time  painted  two 
hundred.  But  he  was  anxious  to  return  to  Europe  and 
prosecute  his  studies  in  Italy.  "  Mrs.  Gen.  Hampton, 
Col.  Wade  Hampton,  John  L.  Manning,  and  John  S. 
Preston,  Esquires,  made  arrangements  with  him  to  pro- 
ceed to  Italy." 

He  left  Columbia  the  last  time  in  August,  1841,  and 
sailed  in  September  from  New- York  for  Liverpool. 
In  a  letter  he  says  :  "  I'll  not  treat  of  my  *  various  acci- 
dents by  flood  and  field ;'  that  is  a  treat  in  reserve  for  a 
future  occasion.  Let  this  suffice,  that  leaving  New- 
York  the  1  St  Sept.,  I  landed  at  Liverpool  on  the  26th,  and 
pursued  '  the  even  tenor  of  my  way'  thence  to  London, 
Dover,  Boulogne  and  Paris, — halting  of  course  at  each 
world  to  draw — breath — not  pictures.  At  Paris  J  re- 
mained six  or  seven  weeks,  sketching  at  the  Louvre,  and 


J  34  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

Studying  Italian.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  flung  myself 
into  a  French  '  diligence,'  gave  the  word  '  go,'  and  during 
ten  days  and  nights  was  continually  en  route  ;  and  here 
have  I  been  in  old  Florence  nearly  a  month,  painting  at 
the  Gallery  the  six  hours,  drawing  at  night  from  the 
living  model,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  rambling  about 
among  the  old  churches,  palaces,  prisons,  gardens,  etc., 
etc.  Oh !  pack  your  trunk,  and  leave  the  sand-hills 
for  a  season — a  walk  along  the  Arno,  or  a  peep  at  the 
frescoes  in  old  Santa  Croce,  is  worth  the  jaunt ; — besides 
— fruit  season  is  in^  and  always  is,  and  how  you  would 
enjoy  the  juice  of  the  grape  !  Though  I  am  among  the 
marvels  (marbles  ?)  of  the  earth,  and  in  the  world's 
garden,  let  me  not  refuse  to  France  its  praise.  I  love 
its  smiling  enthusiastic  populace,  its  good  and  wise  citizen 
king,  its  gorgeous  restaurants  and  splendid  caffe.  *  *  * 
At  any  rate  I  left  it,  Paris, — the  world — with  a  heavy 
heart  and  moistened  lids,  and  trusting  to  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  a  French  coach,  was  drawn  and  quartered  in 

Italy.     *     *     * .     Inman  has  more  natural  talent 

perhaps,  but  Sully  has  the  learning, — all  that  application, 
enthusiasm,  experiment  and  experience  could  do,  aided 
too  by  good  natural  taste,  and  a  nice  perception  of  grace 
and  elegance,  almost  of  beauty,  Mr.  S.  has  accomplished. 
Mr.  I.  has  natural  ability,  a  quick  eye  and  ready  hand, 
— ^hard  study  has  always  been  irksome  to  him  from 
ill  health,  but  he  does  wonders  for  all  that.  Sully  is 
our  Reynolds,  and  Alls  ton  our  wonder, — I  would  not 
give  him  for  less  than  Michael  Angelo  !  He  is  as  fine  as 
all  the  old  masters  together  !" 

He  now  began  in  Florence  his  first  original  Histo- 
rical piece — '  Christ  administered  to  by  Angels.'  He 
says :  "  Models  for  pictures  are  the  heaviest  items  ot 
expense  here, — since  I  have  been  engaged  on  my  angels, 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX.  J  35 

I  have  had  models  enough  for  inspection  to  people  a 
small  village, — angels, — Italian  angels  !  from  three  years 
up  to  thirty ;  women  and  children,  male  and  female.  I 
wish  you  could  see  me  hauling  up  one  little  fellow  with 
a  belly-band  and  rope  and  tackle,  and  when  I  get  him 
in  the  air  and  say  *  fly,  sir,'  he  curls  all  his  limbs  into  a 
heap  and  falls  to  crying  !" 

He  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  Italy.  "Think  of 
making  a  man  forget  his  home,  and  desiring  to  nestle 
with  strangers  !  But  the  people  enter  not  into  my  calcu- 
lations— the  climate,  the  scenery  and  the  arts  make  the 
chief  of  its  charms.  Oh  !  leave  cob-webs  and  dust  and 
politics  and  pines  and  scrub  oaks,  and  all  other  dirty 
things,  and  come  here  and  breathe  in  Italy, — quit  the 
damp,  dank,  suffocating  air  of  sand-hills,  and  the  leaden 
exhalations  of  those  eternal  swamps,  and  come  stand  at 
my  side  at  sunrise  or  sunset,  and  let  me  hear  you  say, 
*  this  is  life,'— one  day  in  the  city  of  the  Medici,  is  better 
than  a  thousand  within  the  walls  of  Gotham, — it  is  better 
to  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  palace  of  the  Grand  Duke,  than 
dwell  in  the  White  House  forever.  Throw  a  few  things 
into  an  old  trunk — borrow  a  few  dollars,  and  come  and 
let  me  '  cicerone'  you  about  *  *  * 

*  *  * — no  description,  written  or 

pictured,  can  give  more  than  a  glimmer  of  the  landscape, 
or  the  faintest  idea  of  the  chmate,  the  atmosphere, 
the  sunsets,  olive  groves,  vineyards,  chateaux,  towers, 
mountains,  all  atone  glance  ; — and  each  cloud  that  inter- 
venes throws  a  huge  shadow  over  some  object  and 
changes  the  whole  character  of  the  picture.  From  min- 
ute to  minute  thus  there  are  constant  changes,  and  the 
rapt  spectator  becomes  '  dnink  with  beauty.'  Oh  !  come 
and  let  me  teach  you  to  enjoy  nature  and  art  in  their 
magnificence ! 


186  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

"  I  am  studying  hard — but  with  v/hat  success  you  shall 
shortly  judge.     The  subject  I  have  chosen  for  my  debut 
in  history-painting   is    ^Christ  administered  to  by  the 
Angels.^     Painting  it  under  the  eye  of  the  best  works  of 
dead  masters,  and  having  now  and  then  the  scrutinizing 
eyes   of  living  judges  to  contend  against,  I  have  been 
floundering  about  in  true  whale  fashion  for  several  months. 
It  has  been  a  good  study  for  me, — it  has  kept  me  always 
busily  thinking  and  fretting,  and  they  are  apt  to  leave 
impressions  firmly  graven.     Tell  me  what  you  think  of 
it  candidly  for  an  original.     Before  my  funds  give  out,  I 
shall  have  one  such,  at  least,  for  each  of  my  good  friends. 
There  are  American  painters  and  sculptors   here  of  all 
sorts.     I  find  nothing  in  their  society  to  please  me,  and  so 
keep  to  myself.    Strange  that  so  much  venom  should  exist 
among  professors  of  a  liberal  art, — but  the  truth  is,  that 
envy  and  jealousy  are  our  (painters')  besetting  sins,  and 
the  first  thing  I  heard  of  here  was  a  flare  up  at  Rome 
amongst  the  American  artists,  and  now  they  are  all  in 
Florence  for  the  summer,  so  I   keep  housed.     Except 
religious  sects,  I  think  ice  are  the  warmest  and  best  haters, 
and  the  most  malignant  devils  the  sun  ever  deigned  to 
shine  upon.     Except  the  French,  I  find  artists  the  most 
disagreeable  associates,  so  can't  expect  to  make  many 
friends  among  them,  though  1  make  some  small  sacrifices 
to  avoid  making  them  enemies.     The  few  friends  I  have 
among  them  are  exceptions  to  the  general  rule. 

"  I  have  been  on  a  foot  excursion  of  ten  days,  in  the 
most  picturesque  part  of  this  lower  world, — visited  Siena, 
and  the  two  celebrated  Convents  of  '  La  Verna'  and 
*  Vallombrosa,  where  the  Etruscan  shade  high  over  arch 
embowers,' — lived  two  days  with  the  old  fathers  of  Val- 
lombrosa, and  as  many  at  the  other.     We  ate,  we  drank, 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


187 


we  snuffed,  and  made  merry  with  these  cloistered  men, 
and  never  have  I  seen  more  hospitality  and  kindness  be- 
stowed. They  chatted  with  us  about  Columbus,  their 
countryman — America — the  Indians — and  wondered  and 
gaped  at  the  cannibal  stories  we  told  them.  These  good 
men  feed  and  lodge  all  visitors,  and  receive  in  recom- 
pense only  what  your  charity  suggests ; — no  charge  is 
made,  but,  of  course,  each  traveller,  after  being  feasted 
and  caressed,  and  hugged  in  the  arms  of  these  old  an- 
chorites, feels  a  bigness  of  soul  that  tempts  him  into  a 
ruinous  liberality,  and  thus  the  sweet  placid  mildness  of 
the  old  coveys  procures  them  ample  means  to  support 
their  institution.  If  I  were  not  Devo,  I  would  be  the 
prior  of  a  convent !  How  I  love  the  quiet  holy  seclusion 
of  their  dwellings ! 

"  I  have  many  sketches  made  from  Nature  as  I  jour- 
neyed— we  were  four  in  number,  Virginia,  Boston, 
New-Haven  and  myself,  and  a  jolly  time  we  had  with 
all  the  loafers  of  each  small  town  we  strolled  through, 
(armed  with  knapsacks,  etc.,)  following  at  our  heels  and 
uttering  witticisms  (an  Italian  privilege)  at  the  expense 
offorestieri — strangers.  *  May  I  ask  the  way  to  Poppi,' 
said  I.  '  Yes,'  said  a  smart  sharp-eyed  beauty — (just  for 
fun  I  did  it,) — '  Yes,  you  may.'  '  Then  where  is  it  ?'  I 
asked.     '  I  don't  know,'  she  laughing  replied." 

It  is  said  De  Veaux  was  sensitive  about  his  early  ed- 
ucation. One  can  scarcely  tell  why,  in  reading  so  charm- 
ing a  sketch  of  Florence,  as  seen  from  the  neighbour- 
ing hills  : — "  A  run  up  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  hundreds 
of  viTla-capped  hills  (that  actually  encircle  this  old  walled 
city  of  eighty  thousand  inhabitants),  at  sunset,  is  a  per- 
fect view  of  Paradise  before  the  fall.  Oh !  what  chiaro 
scuro — the  city  at  your  feet,  with  towers  and  steeples 


238  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

toned  by  time,  and  fresh  varnished  by  the  rays  of  an  Ital- 
ian sun  ! — the  Arno,  one  sheet  of  silver  valley,  stretching 
far  and  wide — the  immense  spreading  of  plains  shadowed 
by  a  mountain  cloud,  and  cut  into  by  a  broad  sheet  of  sun- 
light !  such  things  I  have  never  seen,  and  will  never  tire 
of — each  second  brings  a  change  and  a  new  picture. 
In  all  this  lavish  sport  of  hot  and  cold,  light  and  shade, 
the  eye  rests  soothingly  upon  the  old  white-headed  Apen- 
nines, that  seem  to  be  stretching  their  necks  to  get  a 
look  at  the  old  CathedraPs  huge  comfortable  looking 
knob,  and  so  warm  themselves  in  imagination." 

Speaking  of  the  old  churches,  he  says  :  "  The  dim 
religious  light  that  is  so  studiously  prepared  in  these 
churches,  adds  of  course  to  the  well  painted  illusions,  and 
one  loves  to  sit  in  the  solemn  silence  and  gaze  himself  into 
a  state  of  joyous  entrancement  that  nothing  earthly 
equals.  Shall  I  become  a  Catholic  ?  No, — 1  can  have 
these  sweet  dreams  and  be  a  Protestant  '  for  a'  that' — 
the  heretics  are  not  shut  out  from  heaven — on  earth  at 
least." 

We  remember  nowhere  to  have  seen  a  more  satis- 
factory account  given  for  the  decline  of  the  arts  in  Italy, 
than  in  the  following  passage  : 

"  Of  the  present  Italian  school,  it  requires  not  that  1 
should  tell  you  aught ; — that  it  has  been  declining  rapidly 
for  nearly  two  centuries,  and  has  ceased  to  be  named 
with  the  French  or  English,  you  are  well  aware.  This 
is  not  surprising, — many  causes  have  aided  to  hasten  its 
decay,  but  chief  among  them,  the  fall  of  the  Repub- 
lic and  the  pride  andindependcnce  of  the  States,-^the 
commercial  wealth  transplanted  to  more  favored  situa- 
tions,— the  churches  (the  chief  supporters  of  the  Artist) 
overstocked  with  pictures,  and  the  constant  demand  for 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


189 


copies  by  foreigners  travelling  in  this  country,  which  has 
made  (and  kept)  copyists  of  men,  who,  with  the  patron- 
age that  Raphael  and  others  received,  might  have  been 
their  equals.  If  other  causes  exist,  it  must  be  in  the 
general  degeneracy  of  the  race, — the  climate  is  I  suppose 
the  same  as  then — the  models  the  same, — the  pictures 
finer  than  they  had  to  study — but  the  incentives  are 
wanting — '  money,  money,  and  again  money.'  The 
adoration  of  the  old  masters  has  done  its  share  of  harm, 
for  persons  who  for  the  last  century  have  travelled  here 
have  been  unwilling  to  pay  for  aught  but  copies  from 
them,  and  the  government  and  church  are  too  poor,  or 
have  more  pictures  than  they  need,  so  modern  artists  of 
course  dwindle  into  mere  copyists — and  poor  miserable 
devils  they  are — cramped  and  disappointed  in  their  first 
aspirings,  who  can  wonder  at  their  failures  ?" 

During  his  residence  in  Florence,  he  executed  his 
'  Christ  fed  by  Angels,'  which  he  thus  describes  to  the 
friend  in  South  Carolina,  in  whose  house  he  wished  it  to 
hang  '  till  he  should  paint  something  better.' 

"  The  moment  I  have  chosen  is  the  arrival  of  the 
angels  with  food  and  drink,  and  of  the  Saviour's 
thanksgiving.  The  angels  are  disposed  in  acts  and  pos- 
tures that  chanced  to  strike  most  pleasingly  on  my  fancy, 
— all  blemishes  and  beauties  (are  there  such  ?)  are  my 
own — it  is  strictly  original. 

"  Beginning  on  the  right  of  the  picture,  (the  left  of  the 
observer,)  is  a  figure  partly  obscured  by  the  shadows  that 
fall  from  a  cluster  of  foliage — this  is  the  wine-bearer,  the 
Hebe  of  the  company, — next  a  small  figure  adjoining,  is 
one  presenting  a  cup  of  wine,  but  waiting  religiously  the 
cessation  of  grace, — behind  the  kneeling  figure,  and  some 
distance  back  in  the  picture,  is  one  coming  forward,  with 


]99  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

hands  claspt^d  and  eyes  heavenward,  as  if  in  gratefulness 
for  the  relief  sent  to  the  Christ, — then  comes  the  person 
of  Jesus  ; — immediately  on  his  left  an  angel  is  anxiously 
directing  his  attention  to  another  just  alighted,  bearing 
bread  and  fruit,  whilst  a  third  is  seen  eagerly  urging  the 
food-bearer  forward  ;  an  angel  has  taken  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,  and  is  reverently  embracing  it, — the  foreground 
occupant  kneels  in  silent  worship. 

'•  Action  in  some  of  the  figures  became  necessary,  to 
give  life  and  animation  to  the  picture,  which  might  oth- 
erwise have  appeared  tame,  spiritless  and  monotonous. 
This  movement  I  have  affected  by  the  supposed  inquiet- 
ude of  two  or  three  of  the  younger  urchins.  I  think  I 
have  avoided  any  thing  like  too  much  bustle  and  confu- 
sion in  the  group,  by  the  sacredness  of  air,  bent  heads, 
and  prayerful  aspects  of  the  majority,  particularly  the 
elder  forms,  and  have  left  all  infringement  of  etiquette 
to  the  younger  branches  of  the  family." 

This  work  has  been  spoken  of  in  exalted  terms,  by 
some  of  the  best  artists — it  established  the  reputation  of 
the  Painter.  He  passed  on  to  Rome  where  he  began 
his  artistic  life  in  earnest.  He  made  several  beautiful 
copies,  and  executed  '  The  Bandit  at  Home  ' — '  The 
Beggar  Girl,'  and  '  A  Pilgrim  asleep,  in  sight  of  St. 
Peter's  Dome.'     Says  Dr.  Gibbes, 

"  '  The  Bandit  at  Home,''  in  the  possession  of  J.  S. 
Preston,  Esq.,  is  a  noble  work.  The  conception  is  fine, — 
a  sweet  and  lovely  child  is  brought  by  the  fond  mother,  to 
win  from  his  rugged  life  the  fierce  Brigand, — his  innocent 
gambols  have  touched  the  heart  of  the  bold  outlaw,  and 
a  gentle  and  mournful  interest  exhibits  itself  in  his  coun- 
tenance as  he  sports  with  his  boy.  The  calm  and  soft- 
ening influence  of  an  Italian  sky  on  the  hard  features  of 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


191 


the  rocky  landscape,  and  the  soothing  effect  of  twilight 
like  the  mother's  anxious  love,  are  admirably  arranged 
in  keeping  with  the  character  of  the  scene.  The  gentler 
feelings  of  the  father  have  displaced  for  the  time  the  in- 
fluence of  '  hatred  and  malice  and  all  uncharitableness,' 
and  the  parent  feels  the  power  of  innocence  over  his 
heart,  and. of  conscious  guilt  on  his  mind.  The  figures 
are  all  the  size  of  life,  and  considering  the  difficulty  of 
drawing  the  large  figure  correctly,  this  will  be  considered 
his  greatest  work.  The  drawing  is  admirably  correct, — 
the  coloring  elaborately  rich,  and  the  general  effect  very 
striking ;  the  story  is  well  and  pleasingly  told,  and  as  a 
work  of  art,  this  picture  will  bear  comparison  with  any 
that  we  know  as  the  offspring  of  American  genius.  The 
finish  in  detail  of  '  Christ  and  the  Angels,^  is  only  here 
surpassed  by  the  boldness  in  composition  and  complete- 
ness of  effect  of  the  full  sized  figures.  These  two  ori- 
ginals are  all  the  memorials  of  any  size,  of  that  gifted 
spirit,  which  has  gained,  we  hope,  instead  of  the  immor- 
tality of  earth,  that  which  is  eternal  in  the  heavens!" 

*  The  Roman  Beggar  Girl '  is  rich  and  sunny  as  her 
own  native  clime  ;  he  found  the  original  of  this  picture 
in  a  state  of  great  destitution  on  the  steps  of  a  church ; 
from  his  own  scanty  store  he  clothed  and  placed  her 
above  immediate  want." 

He  now  prepared  to  leave  for  Venice.  Of  his  object 
he  thus  speaks.  For  this  season  my  labors  are  closed  at 
Rome.  I  hope  nothing  will  prevent  my  return  here, — 
all  my  future  hopes  are  pending  upon  the  use  I  make  of 
next  winter, — to  draw  incessantly  is  my  fixed,  firmly- 
rooted  determination,  which  nothing  ought  to  dislodge. 
May  I  be  firm  in  obeying  the  dictates  of  reason  and  pure 
conviction ! 


192  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

He  went  to  Bologna,  and  then  on  to  Venice — Dr. 
Gibbes  has  published  his  Journal  during  the  entire  jour- 
ney. We  regret  that  we  have  no  space  for  it — it  is  full  of 
genius,  bright  with  hope  for  the  future  which  was  so  soon 
to  be  clouded.  He  has  himself  given  the  history  of  the  ty- 
rannical treatment  which  cost  him  his  life.  He  was  now 
on  his  way  back  to  Rome  full  of  hope,  enthusiasm  and 
ambition.  For  several  years  he  had  been  communing 
with  the  masters  of  his  art,  and  he  had  drank  in  their  spirit. 
Unlike  most  scholars  who  visit  Italy,  he  had  made  few 
copies.  He  spent  most  of  his  time  in  studying  those 
wonderful  creations  which  have  stirred  or  crushed  the 
ambition  of  every  man  who  ever  gazed  on  them.  With 
him  art  was  a  spiritual  idea — his  soul  yearned  to  com- 
mune with  the  great  teachers  who  were  dead,  and  it  is 
said  that  he  passed  many  hours  before  each  of  those  works 
which  attracted  his  attention,  in  rapt  silence  which  could 
not  be  broken.  He  had  now  nearly  finished  his  journey- 
ings,  and  with  a  mind  stored  with  the  richest  associations, 
an  improved  eye  and  practised  hand,  and  above  all  a 
wakeful  and  a  creative  genius,  with  the  vision  of  fame 
in  the  future,  and  those  who  loved  him  to  beckon  him  on 
— he  would  have  won  a  name  few  men  have  borne  in  our 
times.  Let  us  see  to  whom  we  owe  it  that  our  country 
and  the  world  have  lost  such  a  man. 

"  I  left  Parma  for  Bologna,  where  1  had  previously 
spent  some  time, — and  now  comes  an  epoch  in  my  life. 
Arrived  within  fifteen  miles  of  Bologna,  my  passport  was 
carefully  examined  and  found  to  be. wanting  the  signature 
of  the  Pope's  representative  at  Venice,  to  pass  through  this 
part  of  his  dominions  (at  present  in  a  state  of  insurrec- 
tion). I  was  suspected  of  being  some  wild  republican 
spirit,  hastening  to  join  the  revolutionists,  and  was  not 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 


193 


only  not  allowed  to  proceed,  but  not  permitted  to  remain 
at  the  point  I  had  already  reached  ;  the  police  ordered 
me  immediately  out  of  town  ;  there  was  nothing  left  for 
me  but  obedience.  I  was  then  but  one  day's  journey 
from  my  destination,  Florence  ;  by  this  sad  misfortune,  I 
was  obliged  to  take  a  one-horse  conveyance,  and  to  avoid 
the  Pope's  possessions,  was  forced  to  cross  one  of  the 
worst  ranges  of  the  Apennines,  at  this  season  a  terrible 
undertaking,  and  for  four  days  amidst  rain,  wind,  snow 
and  hail  I  plied  my  way ;  it  lost  me  so  many  precious 
days,  and  the  exposure  has  fixed  a  cold  on  my  lungs, 
which  I  fear  will  cost  me  more.  This  is  a  small  inkling 
of  the  sweets  of  this  form  of  government,  and  the  Poetry 
of  Italy." 

The  unfortunate  De  Veaux  reached  Rome  a  dying 
man — and  in  a  short  time  he  was  carried  to  the  grave. 
Many  kind  familiar  faces  were  around  his  bedside  in 
that  far  off  land  of  strangers — and  for  two  months  the 
sufferer  calmly  and  cheerfully  waited  for  his  release. — 
His  death  was  worthy  of  the  Huguenots  whose  blood 
flowed  in  his  veins.  "  The  last  week  of  his  illness  he  sent 
for  two  of  his  American  friends  who  were  about  return- 
ing home, — they  feared  agitating  him,  but  he  said  he  must 
see  them, — they  came, — he  talked  long  and  earnestly 
to  them  on  the  subject  of  religion — they  were  both  over- 
come. One  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  kissing  and 
bathing  poor  De  Veaux's  hands  with  his  tears,  assured 
him  that  he  should  never  forget  his  counsels.  *  *  * 
*  *  Of  his  kind  friends  here,  I  must  not  forget  to 
mention  particularly  Mr.  Huntingdon,  from  New- York, 
to  whom  De  Veaux  was  very  much  attached  ; — sometimes 
he  would  send  for  Mr.  H.'s  pictures,  admiring  his  talents 
very  much, — a  few  days  before  his  death  he  sent  for  one, 


194  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

— after  looking  at  it  some  time,  and  expressing  his  pleas- 
ure at  seeing  it,  he  said,  '  take  it  away,  I  wish  to  see  no 
more  paintings,  I  am  going  to  a  better  place,'  pointing  to 
the  blue  sky,  '  my  home  will  soon  be  beyond  that.'  " 

A  few  days  before  his  death  he  wrote  two  letters — 
to  his  mother  and  his  friend  who  became  his  biographer. 
In  the  latter  he  says  : — 

"  I  have  resigned  myself  to  God,  who  in  His  good- 
ness has  given  me  three  months  for  prayer  and  repent- 
ance, and  I  feel  a  strong  hope  that  when  life  is  past  I 
shall  go  to  dwell  with  Christ  forever. 

"  And  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  I  must  now  bid  adieu. 
God's  will  be  done.  May  God  bless  you  for  your  bro- 
therly conduct  always  towards  me,  enabling  me  to  do  much 
for  my  poor  family.  I  always  hoped  to  be  able  to  make 
some  small  return,  but  who  can  say  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth  ?  Let  me  beseech  you,  my  dear  friend,  with  wife 
and  children,  to  devote  yourselves  to  the  service  of  God, 
taking  no  peace,  night  or  day,  until  your  sins  are  all 
washed,  and  you  are  sure  that  God  has  blessed  you, — 
live  for  heaven  only,  and  after  a  few  years  of  toil  and 
pain,  I  trust  you  and  I  and  all  of  us  may  meet  around 
God's  throne,  never  to  part  again  ; — shut  in  with  Christ 
together,  we  will  spend  together  the  long  ages  of  eter- 
nity— farewell. Farewell  till  heaven  unites  us,  which 

God  in  his  mercy  grant." 

The  following  touching  account  of  poor  De  Veaux's 
funeral,  is  from  the  pen  of  a  kindred  spirit — his  friend 
Rossiter,  the  Artist : 

"  It  was  on  Monday,  April  the  29th,  that  his  friends 
and  all  the  Americans  at  Rome,  assembled  to  pay  the 
last  tribute  of  regard  to  all  that  this  world  claimed  of  poor 
De  Veaux.     Towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon  the 


JAMES  DE  VEAUX.  |0g 

hearse,  followed  by  a  line  of  carriages,  took  its  mournful 
course  through  the  crowded  streets  to  the  Protestant 
burial  ground.  The  genial  temperature  of  early  spring 
was  awakening  in  the  trees,  herbage  and  flowers  a  re- 
newed existence,  reminding  us  of  the  new  state  of  being 
into  which  our  friend  had  passed, — and  after  the  solemn 
service  of  the  church  had  been  read  over  his  remains,  we 
consigned  them  to  their  narrow  house,  as  the  sun  was 
sinking  below  the  Mediterranean  horizon.  The  hour 
was  impressive,  and  the  place  where  we  laid  him  is  fit- 
ting for  the  long  sleep  of  death.  About  him  are  the  clus- 
tering mounds  of  others  of  his  countrymen,  cut  off  like 
himself  in  the  pride  of  their  youth  or  manhood, — fresh 
flowers  were  blooming  over  their  graves, — above,  the  tdll 
cypress  and  pines  moan  in  the  evening  wind,  and  the 
venerable  walls  of  Rome  and  the  lofty  pyramidal  mauso- 
leums of  Caius  Sextus  throw  their  deep  shadows  over 
the  sacred  enclosure.  Shelley,  Keats,  and  many  a  gifted 
mind  from  other  nations  slumber  here  ; — the  multitude  of 
the  dead,  the  crumbling  mould  of  centuries,  the  decaying 
particles  of  the  earliest  ages  of  the  world,  mingle  alone 
with  his  dust,  and  are  the  only  spirits  that  pervade  the 
spot.  Rome  with  its  living  pulsations  is  far  removed. 
And  here  let  him  repose, — like  the  spring  and  summer 
flowers  that  wave  over  his  grave,  his  memory  will  ever 
bloom  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  knew  him, — who,  cut 
off  in  the  youth  of  a  promising  career,  left  a  name  for 
nobleness  of  character,  gentleness  of  heart,  and  strength 
of  feeling,  more  to  be  envied  than  the  renown  of  gifted 
talents  alone, — or  the  proud  blazonry  of  professiona' 
elevation." 

His  brother  Artists  erected  a  plain  marble  stone  over 
his  dust — under  his  profile  in  basso  relievo,  are  these 
words : — 


196  JAMES  DE  VEAUX. 

SACRED 

To  the  memory  of 

3^M'^S^  5i3S  U!2.^©X, 

painter: 

Who  was  born  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  Amejica, 

AND 

Died  in  Rome,  April  28,  1844, 

Aged   31   years,    and   6   months. 

This  Monument  has  been  erected  to  the  Deceased 

by  his  friends,  as  a  token  of  their 

high  regard  and  esteem 

for  him. 

Over  the  resting-place  of  this  gifted  and  early  lost 
painter,  Americans  will  stand  and  weep. 

Nor  can  I  forbear  to  say,  that  if  De  Veaux  had  been 
a  citizen  of  any  other  great  nation,  the  Court  of  Rome 
would  long  ago  have  been  summoned  before  a  tribunal 
which  even  Infallibility  itself  must  respect,  to  tell  why 
it  was  that  a  young  Artist  from  a  distant  country,  must 
be  treated  like  an  Italian  bandit,  when  he  is  on  his  way 
to  the  shrines  of  Art. 


i 


7*^ 


f^ 


[P  ^  A  [L 11.  c. 


I'rom.  a.  Pajntmsc    bv    himself 


REMBRANDT    PEALE. 


EEMBRANDT   PEALE. 


1  HAVE  thought  of  no  name  that  has  graced  the 
annals  of  American  Art,  with  which  I  could  with  more 
propriety  introduce  the  line  of  our  living  Artists,  than 
that  of  the  veteran  Peale,  who  is  the  oldest  American 
Painter. 

In  reply  to  a  letter  of  mine,  requesting  this  Artist  to 
furnish  the  materials  for  writing  his  life,  I  received  with 
a  masterly  portrait,  executed  by  his  own  hand,  the  fol- 
lowing beautiful  note,  a  part  of  which  I  cannot  deny  the 
reader  the  pleasure  of  perusing : — 

Philadelphia,  March  8th,  1846. 

It  is  equally  difficult  for  an  Artist  to  paint  his  own  portrait,  or  to 
write  his  own  memoirs — to  avoid  the  seduction  of  self- approbation, 
and  yet  to  exhibit  the  true  formation  and  course  of  character.  If, 
however,  he  will  not  assist  in  doing  this,  some  one  else  may  falsify 
and  exaggerate  it,  as  was  the  case  with  Mr.  West,  whose  neglect 
of  writing  was  unfortunately  supplied  by  Mr.  Gait,  with  tales  of 
error  and  romance — this  I  know  from  my  recollection  of  facts. 
Even  of  myself  I  have  heard  the  most  ridiculous  stories,  which  are 
so  readily  metamorphosed  by  the  tongues  of  gossips,  who  deal  in  the 
wonderful.  It  requires  much  vanity  to  spin  out  a  volume  of  one's- 
self — and  yet  there  is  some  vanity  and  indolence  in  forbearing. 
There  are  few  Franklins  in  Autobiography,  and  it  requires  the  sa- 
cred veil  of  death  to  be  interposed  against  the  criticisms  of  those 
who  betray  their  own  vanity  by  censuring  that  of  others. 

In  the  sketches  which  I  send  you,  I  have,  according  to  your  re- 
commendation, concentrated  them  in  reference  to  my  pictorial  career 
— and  have  avoided  making  any  effort  to  interest  the  reader  by  nar- 
ratives  of  the  perils,  I  have  eqcoqntered  by  sea  and  land,  and  amus- 


200  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

ing  incidents  of  travel — notwithstanding  the    mental    epidemic  of 
romance  which  prevails,  to  the  injury  of  simplicity  and  truth. 

I  have  lived  long  enough  to  witness  the  entire  growth  of  the  Fine 
Arts  in  our  country,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking,  with  you,  that  the 
time  has  now  arrived,  when  the  expansion  of  knowledge,  and  the  re- 
finements of  society  are  rapidly  developing  a  corresponding  taste  and 
patronage  of  the  Fine  Arts,  whose  cause  you  have  boldly  and  zeal- 
ously undertaken  to  advocate. 

I  remain  respectfully  yours, 

Rembrandt  Peale. 

The  difficulties  to  which  the  Artist  alludes  in  the  first 
paragraph  of  his  letter,  have  been  so  entirely  overcome, 
in  the  Autobiographical  sketch  he  sent  me,  that  I  could 
not  prevail  upon  myself  to  substitute  for  it  one  entirely 
my  own.  It  has  been  esteemed  an  uncommonly  chaste 
and  beautiful  account,  by  those  who  have  read  it  in  MS., 
and  they  have,  without  exception,  recommended  me  to 
publish  it  as  it  is  : — 

It  was  intended  that  I  should  be  born  in  Philadel- 
phia, but  my  father  had  raised  a  volunteer  company,  of 
which  he  was  made  captain,  and  being  under  Washing- 
ton's command  with  the  army,  my  mother,  alarmed  by 
the  approach  of  the  British  troops,  sought  refuge  at  a 
farm-house  twenty  miles  from  the  city,  where  I  was  born 
on  the  22d  of  February,  1778. 

From  my  father's  mechanical  propensities,  an  indis- 
pensable part  of  his  domicil  was  the  carpenter's  shop ; 
in  which,  after  many  cut  fingers,  I  early  learned  the  use 
of  the  saw,  plane,  and  chisel,  and  made  myself  a  writing- 
desk,  easel  and  paint-box,  into  which  I  stored  up,  though 
useless,  all  the  old  brushes  and  bladders  of  paint  my  fa- 
ther threw  away.  This  same  paint-box,  made  of 
common  pine,  served  me  during  many  years  of  my  pro- 
fessional life,  with  an  occasional  fresh  coat  of  paint. 


REMBRANDT  PEALE,  201 

At  this  time  it  was  my  great  delight  to  arrange  and 
examine  a  curious  collection  of  old  engravings,  which 
my  father  had  bought  of  itinerant  Italians,  at  that  early 
day  in  the  history  of  our  art,  the  only  venders  of  such 
articles.  Extended  on  the  floor,  winter  and  summer,  I 
pored  over  them  for  hours,  smoothed  and  mended  them, 
and  read  the  lives  of  their  authors  in  the  Painter's  Dic- 
tionary. It  was  a  fortunate  accident  that  my  first  at- 
tempt to  draw  was  from  the  letters  of  the  Roman  capitals, 
enlarging  them  from  title-pages  and  handbills.  This 
proved  the  best  exercise  that  could  be  given  for  the  ed- 
ucation of  my  eye,  and,  at  a  more  mature  age,  led  to  the 
development  of  the  system  of  graphics. 

A  sister,  older  than  myself,  was  regularly  advancing 
in  a  course  of  drawing  that  excited  my  admiration. 
Daily,  as  I  was  liberated  from  school,  I  rushed  to  her 
room  and  watched  every  movement  of  her  pencil,  which 
I  comprehended  as  preliminary  to  drawing  with  the 
brush.  When  she  chanced  to  be  otherwise  engaged,  I 
sedulously,  but  unseen,  copied  the  drawings  she  had 
made.  It  was  the  work  of  many  days.  But  when  she 
saw  them,  nothing  could  induce  her  to  continue,  errone- 
ously supposing  that  I  had  drawn,  without  any  effort, 
what  had  cost  her  so  much  pains.  In  my  subsequent 
studies,  from  an  impression  it  was  best  to  leave  me  to  my 
own  impulses,  my  father  only  gave  me  a  passing  remark, 
or  some  general  direction,  but  with  this  special  advice— 
to  acquire  correctness  in  drawing  before  I  should  attempt 
the  use  of  the  brush.  This  I  endeavored  to  accomplish 
by  the  aid  of  anatomical  engravings  and  plaster  casts. 

The  first  collection  of  Italian  Pictures  sent  to  this 
country  was  consigned  to  John  Swanvvick,  then  our  most 
distinguished  merchant,  who  deposited  them  for  sale  in 


202  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

my  father's  Gallery,  where  they  remained  for  two  year's 
unsold,  until  they  were  sacrificed  and  scattered  under  the 
hammer  of  the  auctioneer.  It  was  this  collection  of  old 
heads,  Scripture  histories  and  landscapes,  that  confirmed 
my  desire  to  become  a  Painter,  which  was  further 
strengthened  by  a  visit,  with  my  father,  to  the  painting- 
rooms  of  Mr.  Pine.  He  was  a  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, and  coming  from  England  highly  recommended, 
Robert  Morris  built  him  a  dwelling-house,  with  a  large 
exhibition-room  and  a  suitable  painting-room.  In  this 
mysterious  sky-lighted  hall,  the  walls  of  which  were 
covered  with  large  paintings — his  own  works  in  history 
and  portrait  and  many  copies  from  Reynolds,  especially 
the  noble  whole  length  of^Mrs-Siddons  as  the  Tragic 
Muse-^-my  imagination  pictured  a  giant  of  art,  but  when 
we  entered  his  private  study,  I  was  astonished  to  find 
that  so  small  a  man  could  produce  such  mighty  works ! 
He  seemed  a  little  conjurer,  with  his  maul-stick  for  a 
wand,  and  palette  of  colored  incantations. 

My  first  attempt  to  paint  in  oil  was,  as  usual,  a  por- 
trait of  myself,  in  which  I  could  blunder  unseen,  and  not 
fatigue  the  sitter  sooner  than  the  painter.  This  I  thought 
a  good  beginning,  as  every  body  knew  the  likeness  of 
the  little  boy  only  thirteen  years  old.  I  have  often  shown 
this  portrait  to  young  beginners,  to  encourage  them  to  go 
on  from  bad  to  better.  My  next  attempt  was  a  candle- 
light portrait  of  myself,  painted  at  night — the  candle 
partially  hidden  behind  a  letter  in  my  hand.  The  nov- 
elty of  this  effort  gave  me  praise  and  confidence,  and  I 
hastened  to  represent  the  conflagration  of  the  German 
Lutheran  Church,  which  had  just  occurred ;  and  then 
from  a  print,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  colored  according  to 
my  ocular  experience  in  a  blacksmith's  shop  in  the  neigh- 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


203 


hood,  where  I  loved  to  study  the  glowing  lights  and  mid- 
night shades.  But  such  pictures  were  not  in  demand, 
though  they  attracted  the  attention  of  a  shoe-maker  and 
flute-maker,  whose  wives  I  painted,  to  be  paid  in  kind : 
but,  being  even  less  of  a  merchant  than  an  artist,  I  was  a 
little  mortified  to  receive  only  one  pair  of  shoes  for  the  first 
portrait,  although  better  pleased  with  a  flute  for  the 
second.  The  study  to  play  on  this  flute,  and  soon  after, 
the  guitar,  served  to  occupy  every  moment  that  I  could 
spare  from  painting,  and  often  reminds  me  of  the  moral 
benefits  that  result  from  an  early  attention  to  some  mu- 
sical attainment. 

When  I  was  about  fifteen  years  old,  recollecting  how 
rapidly  I  had  learned  to  write  after  being  somewhat 
proficient  in  drawing,  I  was  desirous  of  trying  with 
another  person,  whether  writing  could  not  be  better  ac- 
quired after  a  short  course  of  drawing ;  and  made  my 
first  experiment  with  Thomas,  now  Judge  Sergeant,  then 
eleven  years  old,  who  was  totally  deficient  in  writing  and 
knew  nothing  of  drawing.  A  few  minutes'  instruction 
every  other  day,  made  him  in  six  weeks  a  good  writer 
and  draughtsman. 

After  those  fire-light  attempts,  I  studied  the  eflects 
of  day-light  by  copying  my  father's  Portraits,  Historical 
Prints  and  Landscapes  ;  and  at  seventeen  years  was 
flattered  by  having  to  paint  a  portrait  of  the  Senator 
Sedgwick,  and  a  rich  West-India  lady,  bedizened  wnth 
rings  and  jewels.  I  had  painted  the  back  of  her  watch, 
as  it  hung  at  her  side,  but  to  gratify  her,  I  painted  a 
duplicate  of  it  lying  on  the  table,  with  its  face  richly 
studded  with  diamonds.  This  gave  me  a  surfeit  of  or- 
naments, which  I  never  afterwards  introduced  into  any 
portraits. 


204'  REMBRANDT  PEALE, 

About  the  year  1794  my  father  and  I  attempted 
to  get  up  a  School  of  Design,  which  was  commenced  at 
our  dwelHng,  and  finding  it  difficult  to  procure  a  model, 
as  an  Academy  figure,  my  father  volunteered  himself  to 
begin  with.  Efforts  were  then  made  to  collect  Pictures, 
and  the  first  Exhibition  in  America  was  opened  in  the 
Hall  of  Independence.  The  harmony  of  the  Society, 
however,  was  disturbed  by  the  turbulent  spirit  of  the 
Italian  Carachi,  known  by  his  Bust  of  Washington,  and 
as  a  conspirator  against  Buonaparte,  Barralet,  Groom- 
bridge  and  other  Artists,  and  it  soon  ceased  to  exist. 

When  I  was  but  a  school-boy  I  knew  no  other  who 
was  born  on  the  birthday  of  Washington,  and  it  was  this 
childish  motive  which  impelled  me  to  seek  every  occasion 
of  seeing  him.  This  was  necessarily  followed  by  the 
greatest  veneration  for  his  character  as  well  as  his  sublime 
aspect.  My  post  had  been  behind  my  father's  chair 
when  he  painted  him  in  1786 — I  was  the  bearer  of  every 
message  from  my  father  to  him — I  met  him  every  Sunday, 
as  he  went  to  church — crossed  the  street,  returned,  and 
met  him  again,  to  glance  at  his  countenance  ;  and  when 
he,  sometimes,  putting  his  hand  on  my  head,  asked  me 
"How  is  your  good  father?"  I  loved  him  the  more.  At 
public  parades,  I  studied  him  in  military  guise  ;  and  after- 
wards, saw  him  when  he  resigned  his  seat  to  Adams. 
It  will  not  be  difficult,  therefore,  to  believe  that  I  longed 
for  no  greater  honor  than  to  paint  his  portrait.  Thi% 
privilege  He  kindly  granted  me  in  September,  1795,  by 
giving  three  sittings,  of  three  hours  each. 

Young  in  the  world,  and  inexperienced  in  conversa- 
tion, I  induced  my  father  also  to  begin  a  portrait,  along- 
side of  me,  keeping  him  in  familiar  conversation.  From 
this  study  I  executed  ten  copies  in  Charleston,  S.  C, 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


205 


where  1  spent  the  winter  in  professional  business — 
among  other  portraits  painting  Gen.  Gadsden,  Gen. 
Sumpter,  and  Dr.  Ramsay,  for  my  father's  gallery. 

On  my  return  to  Philadelphia  in  the  spring,  in  com- 
pany with  my  father  and  uncle,  I  saw  Stuart's  portrait 
of  Washington.  We  were  of  one  opinion,  that  it  was 
most  beautifully  painted.  I  subsequently  made  many 
studies  in  efforts  to  combine  my  own  and  my  father's 
portraits,  but  never  satisfied  myself,  nor  my  father,  (than 
whom  no  man  knew  Washington  better,)  till  many  years 
after,  in  the  seventeenth  attempt,  which  is  in  the  Senate 
Chamber  at  W^ashington. 

In  the  habits  of  domestic  life,  contrary  to  Dufres- 
noy's  precept  to  the  painter,  only  to  marry  his  Art,  I 
married  before  I  was  twenty-one,  and  resided  some  time 
in  Baltimore.  In  the  autumn  of  1801,  I  joined  my 
father  in  his  laborious  enterprise  of  disinterring  two 
skeletons  of  the  Mastodon,  in  Ulster  and  Orange  coun- 
ties, N.  Y.  I  made  a  dra\^ing  of  the  scene  of  our  ope- 
rations, which  especially  astonished  one  of  our  young 
visitors,  of  unusual  taste  in  the  fine  arts,  who  reported 
that  he  had  seen  "  a  great  hemlock,  (meaning  a  Lim- 
ner,) that  took  off  every  thing  on  the  ground."  I  have 
often  smiled  at  the  recollection,  thinking  that  many  a 
young  Limner  in  America  might  as  well  be  a  hemlock. 
In  Philadelphia  I  assisted  my  father  in  the  task  of  put- 
ting these  skeletons  together,  which  required  some  of 
the  deficient  members  to  be  carved  in  counterpart  imi- 
tation— in  which  operation  I  became  expert. 

As  a  preparatory  step  to  my  artistic  studies,  I  went 
through  a  course  of  chemistry,  under  Dr.  Woodhouse, 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  chemical  qualities  of  pig- 
ments— for  it  was  determined  that  the  second  skeletODi 


206  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

should  go  to  London — a  younger  brother  having  charge 
of  it,  and  I  to  have  charge  of  him,  whilst  my  studies 
should  be  pursued  in  the  Royal  Academy.  My  father 
had  been  a  favorite  pupil,  and  was  a  correspondent  of  Mr. 
West,  who  received  me  affectionately,  and  kindly  di- 
rected my  studies  in  his  gallery — introducing  me  to  Law- 
rence and  Allston.  I  exhibited  two  portraits  in  the 
Royal  Academy,  which  brought  me  an  applicant,  the 
Bishop  of  Lambeth ;  but  I  foolishly  declined  the  honor 
of  painting  his  portrait,  considering  myself  in  London 
only  as  a  student.  I  painted  for  my  father's  gallery,  por- 
traits of  the  Poet  Bloomfield,  whom  I  taught  to  draw, 
and  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  to  whom  I  dedicated  my  first 
publication  on  the  Mammoth.*  Sir  Joseph  introduced 
me  to  many  scientific  characters,  who  were  wont  to  as- 
semble at  his  library  breakfasts,  assisted  by  the  learned 
Dr.  Solander,  who  had  accompanied  him  with  Captain 
Cook  round  the  world. 

When  Mr.  West  consulted  me  on  his  purpose  of  re- 
turning with  me  to  America,  I  did  not  suppress  my  con- 
viction that  he  could  not  find  encouragement  for  the  em- 
ployment of  his  pencil  in  History,  except  by  the  exhibi- 
tion of  his  works,  and  recommended  him  to  enlarge  his 
spirited  composition  of  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse.  It  is 
worth  recording  that  he  expressed  himself  mortified  with 
the  idea  of  descending  to  such  means  of  getting  money, 
which  had  not  then  been  the  practice  of  any  distin- 
guished Artists  ;  and,  with  a  flushed  countenance,  begged 
that  I  would  never  mention  the  subject  to  him  again. 
Mrs.  West's  illness  prevented  his  intended  voyage — and 
a  few  years  afterwards,  the  extraordinary  attraction  at 

*  Cuvier  speaks  with  approbation  of  this  little  brochure  in  his  Systeme  df 
la  Jfature. 


REMBRANDT   PEALE. 


207 


the  British  Institution,  of  his  "  Christ  Healing  the  Sick 
and  the  Lame,"  for  which  they  paid  him  three  thousand 
guineas,  nearly  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  induced  him  to 
produce  expressly  for  popular  exhibition,  his  great  picture 
of  "  Christ  before  Pilate  ;"  and  afterwards,  "  Death  on 
the  Pale  Horse,"  though  disadvantageously  altered  from 
the  original  study,  which  was  much  admired  in  Paris. 

Returning  to  America  in  1803, 1  found  sufficient  oc- 
cupation in  Savannah,  Charleston,  New-York,  and  Phil- 
adelphia— there  being  no  capital  city  in  America,  as 
New- York  is  now  becoming;  but  Philadelphia  was  the 
city  of  promise,  and  I  was  zealous  in  the  establishment 
of  an  Academy  of  Fine  Arts.  A  Holland  merchant, 
Mr.  Lichleightner,  arrived  with  a  choice  little  collection 
of  pictures  for  sale.  I  purchased  some  of  him,  and  we 
became  intimate.  He  offered  to  build  a  Gallery,  send 
me  pictures  to  keep  it  always  full,  and  to  share  with  him 
equally  in  the  profits.  This  I  agreed  to  do,  if  I  could 
not  induce  Mr.  Joseph  Hopkinson  to  co-operate  with  me 
in  the  plan  of  an  Academy.  He  repeatedly  refused, 
until  I  assured  him  that  otherwise  I  should  confine  my 
efforts  to  my  individual  interest.  His  influence  raised 
the  money,  a  building  was  erected,  plaster  casts  import- 
ed, which  I  mended  and  mounted :  Fulton's  and  other 
pictures  procured,  and  the  exhibition  of  the  Pennsylva- 
nia Academy  of  Fine  Arts  successfully  opened. 

But  my  spirit  was  with  the  Galleries  of  Europe,  and 
in  1807,  and  again  in  1809, 1  visited  France  to  enjoy  the 
magnificent  assemblage  of  the  works  of  art,  which 
formed  a  part  of  Napoleon's  ambition.  On  the  second 
visit  I  took  my  family  and  lived  two  years  in  Paris,  near 
the  National  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  in  which  I  studied 
daily,  and  was  assiduous  in  procuring  the   portraits  of 


208  REMBRANDT   PEALE. 

distinguished  characters  for  my  father's  gallery.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  interesting  than  this  intercourse  with 
the  minds  and  talents  of  great  men — Humboldt,  Cuvier, 
Bertholet,  Chaptal,  Saint  Pierre,  &c.  Among  the  Art- 
ists I  also  painted  Houdon,  Gerard,  and  David.*  Mr. 
Denon  was  especially  kind  and  serviceable  to  me,  allow- 
ing me  privileges  in  the  Louvre  that  he  extended  to  no 
one  else ;  and  when  I  was  preparing  to  return  to  Ame- 
rica, pressed  me  to  remain,  saying  that  as  Gerard  had 
commenced  history,  and  could  paint  no  more  portraits, 
he  would  give  me  all  the  Imperial  portraits  to  paint ; 
candidly  adding,  "  I  prefer  Gerard  to  you,  but  I  prefer 
your  portraits  to  any  others  here."  Domestic  consider- 
ations induced  me  to  decline  this  offer.  On  my  return 
to  Paris  in  1830,  Denon  being  dead,  his  nephew  pre- 
sented me  with  a  little  gold  medal,  as  a  memorial  of  his 
uncle's  regard  for  me. 

On  my  return  to  America,  with  improved  knowledge 
and  facilities  in  my  art,  I  was  abundantly  patronized  in 
portrait  painting,  but  could  not  suppress  an  increasing 
desire  to  engage  in  greater  works ;  I  therefore  built  a 
Gallery,  and  painted  a  large  picture  of  Napoleon  on 
Horseback,  the  Ascent  of  Elijah,  the  Roman  Daughter, 
the  Death  of  Virginia,  and  Lysippa  on  the  Rock — with 
landscapes,  and  other  pictures.  I  was  tempted  to  trans- 
fer this  Gallery  to  Baltimore,  in  conection  with  a  Mu- 
seum which  I  bought.  Here  I  formed  a  company  to 
light  the  city  with  gas — devoted  a  year  of  my  time  to 
the  enterprise,  to  the  injury  of  my  private  business  ;  and 
though  I  have  the  honor  of  being  the  first  to  light  a 
city  in  America,  I  was  defrauded  of  my  just  pecuniary 

•  The  latter  had  refused  to  sit  to  any  other  painter. 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


209 


reward,  and  obliged  by  consequent  ill  health,  to  abandon 
my  establishment  there. 

1  had  prevfously  painted  the  "  Court  of  Death." 
This  was  a  picture  twenty-four  feet  long,  consisting  of 
twenty-three  figures — a  pictorial  discourse  on  life  and 
death,  being  an  attempt  by  personification  to  show  the 
reality  and  necessity  of  death,  and  the  charms  of  vir- 
tue, contrasted  with  vice  and  intemperance,  and  the 
horrors  of  war.  It  was  the  first  attempt,  in  modern 
times,  to  produce  moral  impressions  on  the  ancient 
Greek  plan,  without  the  aid  of  mythology,  or  conven- 
tional allegory,  being  as  readily  understood  by  the  igno- 
rant as  the  learned ;  and  was  the  first  public  appeal  in 
favor  of  temperance,  before  the  establishment  of  socie- 
ties for  its  promotion.  It  was  exhibited  with  extraordi- 
nary success  in  our  principal  cities,  and  was  recom- 
mended from  several  pulpits,  and  by  the  Corporation  of 
New- York.  Among  the  poetic  effusions  it  has  elicited 
the  first  stanza  of  one  by  Dr.  Godman,  is  thus  compli- 
mentary to  the  Artist.     Shall  I  quote  it  ? 

THE  COURT  OF  DEATH. 

"Though  the  unsparing  hand  of  time  • 

Flings  o'er  earth  his  mantle  gray  ; 
Though  towns  and  towers — though  rocks  sublime 

Perish  beneath  his  all-consuming  sway  ; — 
Man  !  glorious  in  his  strength  !  man,  creature  ofa  da^ 

Imparts  to  perishable  things  a  charm 

That  doth  the  desolating  power  disarm, 
And  snatch  from  Glory's  sun  a  never  dying  ray  I 

1  had  begun  another  composition  of  the  same  dimen- 
sions, "  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount,"  but  the  difficul- 
ties attending  their  exhibition  at  that  time  from  the  want 
of  suitable  rooms  induced  me  to  give  it  up. 

14 


210 


REMBRANDT   PEALE. 


When  Col.  Trumbull,  who  was  long  President  of  the 
old  American  Academy  at  New- York,  retired,  at  his  nom- 
ination I  was  chosen  to  succeed  him.  On^taking  the  chair, 
I  could  not  forbear  saying,  that  I  could  not  heartily  thank 
them  for  the  honor  they  did  me,  unless  they  would  co- 
operate with  me  to  produce  a  friendly  amalgamation  with 
the  Artists'  National  Academy,  of  which  I  was  also  a 
member.  This  could  not  then  be,  but  was  subsequently 
effected,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  friends  of  the 
Arts. 

Again  my  thoughts  reverted  to  Europe,  among  the 
Galleries  of  which  I  flattered  myself  I  should  forget  all 
disappointment,  with  recruited  health — and  meditated  a 
final  residence  in  London  ;  the  image  of  Washington  once 
more  rose  to  engross  my  mind.  I  determined  on  another 
attempt,  not  to  seek  approbation  here,  but  to  gratify 
my  own  heart.  I  knew  that  in  Europe  his  character  was 
justly  appreciated,  and  1  wished  to  take  with  me,  if  possi- 
ble, a  good  likeness.  I  therefore  assembled  in  my  painting 
room  every  Portrait,  Bust,  Medallion  and  Print  of 
Washington  that  1  could  find — thus  to  excite  and  resusci- 
tate my  memory.  My  wife,  who  had  always  objected  to 
these  absorbing  studies,  now  entreated  that  I  would  dis- 
turb my  spirit  no  more  with  Washington,  saying  that  she 
thought  him  my  evil  genius,  and,  with  tears  on  her  cheeks, 
wished  that  he  never  had  been  born !  I  promised  her 
to  make  but  this  one  trial,  but  it  was  an  illusive  promise, 
for  it  lasted  three  months,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
thoughts.  My  father,  too,  was  grieved  at  my  infatuation 
and  waste  of  time — saying  that  I  ought  to  be  satisfied 
with  what  had  already  been  done.  That  could  not  be — 
and  I  wrought  at  my  task  with  unceasing  assiduity,  till  one 
day  my  father  entered,  and  clapping  me  on  the  shoulder, 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


211 


exclaimed,  "You  have  it  now — this  is  indeed  Wash- 
ington." His  approbation  increased  my  excitement,  and 
1  consumed  the  day  in  retouches  from  my  own  Original, 
as  if  Washington  had  just  left  me — it  was  the  fever,  and 
I  feared  the  fatal  madness  of  memory;  but  the  next  day, 
with,  a  tranquil  pulse  and  cool  forehead,  I  looked  on  my 
work  and  was  satisfied  I  had  not  destroyed  it.  My 
father  brought  Judges  Tilghman  and  Peters  to  see  it,  and 
they  sent  others,  so  that  during  five  days  my  room  was 
crowded  with  persons  that  knew  Washington. 

Instead  of  going  to  England,  I  hastened  with  my 
picture  to  Washington  City,  Congress  being  then  in  ses- 
sion, hoping  that  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  the  friend  and 
biographer  of  Washington,  might  also  be  satisfied  with 
it.*  It  was  put  up  in  the -Vice  President's  chamber. 
Judge  Marshall  recommended  me  to  procure  the  written 
testimonials  of  the  friends  of  Washington,  as  a  duty  they 
owed  to  their  country,  and  himself  gave  the  example.  1 
therefore  obtained  from  Judges  Washington,  Tilghman, 
and  Peters,  Bishop  White,  and  other  cotemporaries, 
LETTERsf  repeating  such  expressions  of  their  approbation 
as  they  had  previously  made  public.  These  letters  I 
shall  deposit  in  the  Library  of  Congress. 

The  sittings  which  Washington  gave  me  were  from 
7  till  10  in  the  morning.  He  shaved  himself,  but  at  or 
after  10  the  barber  dressed  his  hair  in  the  formal  wig-like 
fashion  usual  in  his  other  portraits  of  that  period  ;  mine, 
therefore,  represents  him  with  his  hair  somewhat  in  disha- 

*  When  Judge  Marshall  saw  it  he  exclaimed — "  It  seems  as  if  I  were  look- 
ing on  the  living  man  !     It  it  is  more  like  him  than  any  thing  I  have  ever  seen." 

t  Letters  of  thtir  own  dictation — not  a  cer<(^c<itf,  as  erroneously  stated  in 
Dunlap's  History  of  the  Arts 


212  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

bille,  and  shows,  by  the  whisker  on  his  cheek,  the  dark 
brown  color  of  his  hair. 

This  portrait  I  afterwards  took  to  Europe,  and  it 
afforded  me  the  privilege  of  inviting  to  my  painting  room 
the  most  distinguished  persons.  In  Florence  it  was  ex- 
hibited in  the  Royal  Academy.*  At  a  later  period  a 
special  Committee  of  the  U.  S.  Senate  recommended 
the  purchase  of  this  picture,  which  I  parted  with  for 
^2000 — and  the  Senate,  subsequently,  voted  4,500  dol- 
lars for  my  large  Equestrian  Portrait  of  Washington.  It 
was  the  last  bill  sent  to  the  House,  and,  for  want  of  time, 
not  acted  on.     It  remains  in  my  possession. 

I  was  the  first  to  experiment  in  Lithography  in  this 
country,  and  in  Boston  executed  a  number  of  portraits, 
especially  a  large  one  of  Washington,  for  which  I  received 
the  silver  medal  of  the  Franklin  Institute. 

As  previously  intimated,  I  prepared  for  a  long  de- 
sired visit  to  Italy,  engaging  to, make  copies  of  celebra- 
ted pictures  for  some  gentlemen  of  taste  in  New- York. 
Besides  the  enjoyment  of  such  a  visit  to  the  seat  of  the 
Arts,  at  the  mature  age  of  51,  I  was  influenced  by  a  de- 
sire to  superintend  the  education  of  my  son  Angelo,  who 
manifested  a  talent  for  painting.  In  Paris  we  especially 
visited  the  Galleries  of  Art.  By  the  way  of  Lyons  we 
passed  to  Marseilles,  where  we  waited  the  sailing  of  a 
ship  to  Naples.     Accustomed  to  early  hours,  my  son  and 

*  It  elicited  from  the  Editor  of  the  Gazetta  di  Firenze  the  following  com- 
mendation ;  "II  signor  Rembrandt  Peale,  Americano,  si  distinse  in  due  Ri- 
tratti :  in  quello  del  Liberatore  dell'  America,  non  sapremo  bastamente  amrair- 
are  la  naturalezze,  la  verita,  che  e  nella  testa,  e  la  bellezza  del  colorito." 
•'  Mr.  Rembrandt  Peale,  American,  is  distinguished  by  two  Portraits."  (One 
of  these  our  sculptor  Grenough.)  "  In  that  of  the  Liberator  of  America,  we 
cannot  sufficiently  admire  the  naturalness  and  truth  of  his  head,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  colourjng." 


REMBRANDT  PEALE  g^ 

I  anticipated  the  time  of  dining  at  the  table  d'hote,  and 
therefore  were  alone,  with  the  exception  of  one  gentle- 
man, who  at  a  table  near  us,  also  eat  before  his  hour, 
and  heard  our  discourse.  This  continued  for  a  week,  but 
as  we  talked  no  treason,  it  did  not  annoy  me.  At  last 
the  gentleman  spoke,  apologizing  for  his  rudeness  in  his 
admiration  of  the  English  language — acknowledged  that 
he  knew  my  father,  and  finding  that  we  were  going  to 
Naples  and  Rome  gave  me  his  name,  and  offered,  as  an 
atonement  for  his  intrusion,  to  give  me  letters  of  intro- 
troduction.  Perceiving  that  my  thanks  were  somewhat 
cool  and  ceremonious,  he  ventured  to  inform  me  that  he 
was  in  the  confidence  of,  and  corresponded  with  Joseph 
Bonaparte  ;  and  begged  that  I  would  receive  and  deliver 
two  letters  which  he  gave  me^-one  to  a  pleasant  young 
artist,  and  the  other  to  Captain  Robalia,  a  son  of  Napo- 
leon, who  resided  with  the  mother  of  Napoleon  at  Rome. 
I  found  Robalia  all  that  was  promised — he  was  indeed 
most  kindly  attentive  to  me,  and  wished  to  introduce  me 
to  the  Empress  Mother,  which  I  deferred  too  long,  as 
her  sickness  afterwards  prevented  it. 

At  Naples,  with  the  Museums  of  Painting  and 
Sculpture,  and  the  antiquities  of  Pompeii,  there  was 
much  to  interest  us,  but  I  was  chiefly  gratified  in  some 
opportunities  of  seeing  the  best  specimens  of  Fresco 
painting ;  especially  those  in  a  chapel,  under  the  Castle 
of  St.  Elmo,  uninjured,  unsmoked,  and  fresli  as  from 
the  hand  of  yesterday.  Here  we  lingered  till  the  melt- 
ing of  the  snow  permitted  us  to  look  into  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius— then  hastened  to  Rome  to  realize  my  dreams 
by  the  glorious  realities  of  the  Vatican  and  St.  Peters 
— and  in  the  Borghese  Palace  to  execute  some  copies 
from  Corregio  and  Domenichino.     I  could  feel  no  ex- 


214  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

travagant  emotions  in  front  of  the  mighty  ruin  of  Mi- 
chael Angelo's  last  Judgment ;  but  in  presence  of  his 
noble  statue  of  Moses,  and  his  beautiful  dead  Christ  in 
St.  Peters,  my  nerves  thrilled  with  wonder  and  delight, 
and  the  marbles  still  live  in  my  imagination. 

Here  1  painted  portraits  of  the  great  historical  pain- 
ter Camucini,  and  of  the  sculptor  Thorvaldsen,  who  in- 
formed me  that  he  came  to  Rome  to  study  painting,  the 
difficulties  in  which  discouraged  him,  and  he  applied 
himself  to  sculpture  as  the  easier  art.  This  was  also 
the  sentiment  of  Camucini,  who  remarked  that  whilst  Af 
was  obliged  to  finish  all  his  works  with  his  own  hand, 
his  friend  Thorvaldsen  could  walk  the  streets,  satisfied 
that  two  hundred  sculptors  were  working  for  him. 

At  Tivoli,  under  an  umbrella,  held  by  a  peasant  boy, 
to  protect  me  from  the  sun  and  the  spray,  I  painted  two 
views  in  oil  from  the  Cascade,  and  the  beautiful  Casca- 
telles. 

In  Florence  I  resided  nine  months,  making  copies  in 
the  National  Gallery  and  Ducal  Palace,  from  Raphael, 
Titian,  Rubens,  &c.,  and  passing  thence  through  many 
of  the  cities  of  Italy,  feasted  on  the  treasures  of  ancient 
art,  and  chiefly  in  glorious  Venice,  where  the  choicest 
productions  of  Titian  and  Veronese,  filled  the  measure 
of  my  happiness. 

It  is  the  custom  of  the  Artists  in  the  Galleries  of 
Italy,  when  one  is  overlooking  the  work  of  another,  to 
say,  "  ditemi  qualche  cosa  " — meaning,  make  some  re- 
mark that  I  may  be  compensated  for  the  interruption. 
The  studies  of  each  are  thus  successively  examined. 
Being  a  stranger  in  the  Palace  Pitti,  where  I  copied 
from  Rubens,  Raphael,  Bronzino,  etc.,  when  I  was  about 
finishing  a  copy  of  Guido's  Cleopatra,  one  of  the  regu- 


REMBRANDT   PEALE.  Olft 

lar  copyists  of  the  Palace  asked  me  if  I  wished  to  know 
the  judgment  they  had  pronounced  on  me  ?  This  was, 
that  my  own  style  must  be  the  style  of  Guido.  When 
I  inquired  hoio  they  had  come  to  that  conclusion,  he  re- 
marked that  in  making  all  the  other  copies,  I  studied,  as 
others  did,  with  my  palette  knife  to  match  the  tints ;  but 
in  making  what  they  are  pleased  to  term  my  best  copy 
of  Guido,  I  mixed  no  tints,  but  with  my  brush  rapidly 
compounded  them  from  the  original  colors.  I  could  not 
but  smile,  and  informed  him  that  this  mode  of  proceed- 
ing rather  arose  from  my  ignorance  of  Guido's  method, 
which  I  sought  to  ascertain  with  the  materials  he  neces- 
sarily used  to  produce  his  beautiful  penumbral  effects. 

I  returned  by  the  way  of  Paris  and  London.  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  forming  the  acquaintance  of  the  Mar- 
quis of  Stafford,  who  owns  six  valuable  pictures  by 
Raphael.  With  the  exception  of  the  Madonna  della 
Seggiola,  the  copies  I  made  in  Italy  were  mostly  dis- 
posed of  in  Boston. 

This  collection  should  have  been  kept  entire,  to  serve 
as  a  nucleus  to  form  a  National  Gallery,  or  Library 
of  the  Fine  Arts.  In  forming  other  Libraries,  it  is  not 
the  ambition  of  our  projectors  to  acquire  rare  and  un- 
published manuscripts;  but  rather  to  possess  the  best 
editions  of  those  works  which  have  been  multiplied  by 
printing ;  and  this  for  the  imprqvement  and  extension 
of  human  knowledge — not  for  the  gratification  of  a  self- 
ish and  exclusive  antiquarian  taste.  The  Galleries  of 
Painting  in  Europe  have  been  progressive  with  the 
works  of  painters  as  they  were  produced,  and  enriched, 
from  time  to  time,  with  some  choice  specimens  of  art, 
purchased  at  great  prices,  and  valued  as  authentic  docu- 


216  REMBRANDT    PEALE. 

ments.  At  present  it  is  rare  in  Europe  to  find  any  of 
these  on  sale,  but  as  common  to  see  bad  copies  of  them. 
It  is,  therefore,  most  desirable,  even  there,  to  possess  a 
good  copy  of  a  celebrated  original,  which  is  not  to  be 
bought  at  any  price — to  be  seen  only  in  one  spot — and 
liable  to  be  destroyed  by  fire.  Copies  being  generally 
made  by  young  students  before  they  are  able  to  paint 
from  nature,  are  often  bad  and  discredit  their  authority, 
yet  are  essential  to  the  student  who  would  learn  the  pro- 
cess of  art,  and  the  styles  of  different  masters — for  na- 
ture presents  an  equal  variety.  But  when  copies  are 
made  by  able  Artists,  either  from  their  own  works,  or 
those  of  others,  their  merit  may  be  nearly  equal,  some- 
times superior  to  the  originals :  such  were  the  copies  by 
Stella,  from  the  paintings  of  Raphael.  Every  opportu- 
nity should  be  taken  to  procure  authenticated  y«c  similes 
of  pictures  of  established  reputation — and  a  hundred 
of  these  can  be  obtained  for  the  cost  of  one  original. 
To  show  how  much  we  are  influenced  by  prejudice, 
we  attach  great  consequence  to  what  we  term  an  origi- 
nal statue,  which,  as  sculpture  is  now  practised,  is  only 
to  be  seen  in  the  first  studies  in  clay  and  plaster,  the 
marble  being  only  a  copy  from  these,  and  frequently 
never  touched  by  the  inventor,  who  may  order  a  score 
of  them  to  be  made  equally  good.  The  marble  statues 
of  Christ  and  the  Apostles,  which  I  saw  at  Carara, 
wrought  from  the  plaster  studies  of  Thorwaldsen,  he  never 
saw  till  they  were  put  up  in  the  Cathedral  at  Copen- 
hagen. 

But  little  satisfied  with  the  usual  extravagances  of 
Italian  tourists,  I  published  a  volume  of  "Notes  on  Italy." 
On  this  a  learned  friend  remarked  that  I  was  not  so  poet- 


REMBRANDT  PEALE.  SNE:' 

ical  and  enthusiastic  as  he  expected — the  fact  was  I 
exaggerated  nothing,  and  pretended  to  no  excitement 
that  I  did  not  feel.  Mr.  Allston's  entire  approbation 
was  more  to  my  taste,  as  a  lover  of  truth. 

I  used  to  say  that  I  never  could  die  till  I  should  see 
Rome,  but  the  support  and  education  of  nine  children 
delayed  that  purpose  till  a  late  period ;  and  then  some 
friends  advised  me  instead  of  going,  to  give  up  Painting 
and  retire  into  the  country.  The  following  lines,  what- 
ever be  their  poetic  demerit,  at  least  express  my  feelings 
and  love  of  the  Arts. 

LOVE  OF   AN    ARTIST. 

In  early  youth,  with  fancy  bright  and  warm, 

I  learned  to  love — but  'twas  a  mystic  form 

That  only  ut  a  distance  could  be  seen, 

The  Ocean  wide  and  foreign  lands  between, — 

A  maid  of  noble  mien  and  moving  grace, 

All  truth  resplendent  in  htr  winning  face  ! 

A  stranger  on  our  soil,  she  could  not  dwell 

So  near  the  woodman's  axe  or  savage  yell ; 

But  just  appeared  to  kindle  an  emotion, 

Then  sought  her  glorious  home  beyond  the  ocean. 

At  times  majestic,  as  in  Rome,  she  caught 

Historic  grandeur  and  inpassioned  thought; 

Or,  gaily  sporting  'mid  Venetian  wealth, 

Luxurious  shone  in  all  the  bloom  of  health  ; 

And  every  form  her  varying  aspect  bore, 

A  mystic  charm  and  fascination  wore ; 

Whether  in  chaste  simplicity  arrayed, 

Or  gorgeous  in  magnificent  parade. 

I  gazed— how  fondly  gazed  !— nor  ever  tired ; 
My  heart  and  temples  throbbed,— my  brain  waa  fired  ; 
And  naught  but  hope  to  win  her  gave  a  zest 
To  life  and  toil,  that  else  had  been  unblest. 
This  early  passion  no  one  e'er  reproved. 
For  all  admired  what  I  so  deeply  loved. 

In  riper  age,  in  distant  climes,  I  sought 
The  cherished  object  of  my  constant  thought, 


213  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

More  lovely  still  as  still  more  closely  viewed  ; 

And,  once  possessed,  life  knew  no  other  good. 

I  wooed  the  maid, — -she  smiled, — and  in  her  smile 

I  revelled  with  delight ;  but  saw  the  while 

That  others  shared  her  smiles  more  blest  than  I ; 

They  knew  her  long  beneath  a  favoring  sky  ; 

But  I  had  not,  as  they,  bestowed  entire 

My  heart,  while  social  ties  allayed  its  fire. 

Three  times  returning  to  my  native  land, 

I  strove  th'  enduring  passion  to  command. 

And  thrice  I  called  oblivion  to  my  aid ; 

But  still  the  alluring  vision  of  the  maid 

Returned,  with  heightened  charms,  to  mock  ray  pride. 

That  would  renounce  the  wealth  of  such  a  bride  ; 

For  through  all  nature — mountain,  valley,  plain, 

In  air,  on  ocean — lies  her  vast  domain. 

It  could  not  be  ;  nor  could  I  bear  to  die 

Till  her  own  Italy  should  bless  my  eye  : 

With  renovated  health,  despondence  fled, 

And  Rome  bore  witness  that  my  soul  was  wed. 

Forsake  the  object  of  my  choice  .'     Forsake 
The  genial  spirit  that  sustained  me  .'     Break 
The  bond  which  bound  me  unto  life  ?     O,  never 
May  aught  on  earth  ihe  fated  union  sever  !        « 
But,  cherished  to  the  latest  breath,  my  heart 
Shall  glow — still  glow  for  Painting,  peerless  art ! 


A  fifth  time  1  was  induced  to  return  to  Europe,  having 
engaged  to  paint  the  Portraits  of  a  wealthy  and  kind 
family  in  Sheffield,  and  commenced  a  good  business  in 
London,  where  I  was  joined  by  my  family  from  New- 
York;  but  the  death  of  my  Son,  for  whose  sake  I  chiefly 
desired  to  settle  in  London,  where  he  might  take  the 
course  of  Wilkie,  induced  me  to  relinquish  every  advan- 
tage and  return  to  America.  There,  in  the  leisure  hours 
afforded  in  my  profession,  I  labored  to  improve  my  system 
of  Graphics  ;  and  at  the  request  of  Professor  Bache, 
joined  in  the  reorganization  of  the  Philadelphia  High 
School,  by  the  introduction  of  Drawing  as  a  necessary 


REiMBRANDT   PEALE. 


219 


part  in  the  education  of  every  scholar.  As  Professor  of 
Graphics,  with  a  new  class  of  raw  Students  every  six 
months,  1  myself  became  a  Student  in  the  application  of 
my  system,  profiting  by  every  dull  learner,  until  the  pro- 
cess of  tuition  was  rendered  easy  and  certain,  as  it  is  now 
made  public  in  the  improved  form  of  the  last  Edition  for 
the  use  of  Schools  ;  by  means  of  which  Drawing  and 
Writing  may  be  taught  to  large  as  well  as  small  classes, 
even  by  those  teachers  or  superintendents  who  know  not 
how  to  draw  or  write.  To  accompHsh  this  great  object 
I  necessarily  sacrificed  much  of  the  pleasure  and  profit  of 
my  Painting  Room,  during  four  years ;  and,  when  I  could 
make  no  more  improvements,  I  resigned  my  office  to 
other  hands — glad  once  more  to  resume  the  uninterrupted 
use  of  the  brush. 

A  few  years  ago  Drawing  was  taught,  very  superfi- 
cially, only  in  Boarding  Schools  ;  but  in  consequence  of 
my  publications  and  Lectures,  it  is  getting  to  be  consid- 
ered as  essential  in  almost  every  School.  The  controllers 
of  the  Public  Schools  of  the  City  and  County  of  Phila- 
delphia in  1843  passed  these  Resolutions — 

"1st.  That  the  Board  approves  of  the  system  of 
Graphics,  as  containing  a  series  of  progressive  exercises 
in  Drawing,  well  adapted  as  an  introduction  to  Writing. 

"  2nd.  The  Board  recommend  a  continuance  of  the 
course  of  instruction  in  Drawing,  as  taught  in  the  High 
School  by  Professor  Peale. 

"  3rd.  The  thanks  of  this  Board,  and  of  the  commu- 
nity, are  due  to  Mr.  Peale  for  his  zealous  efforts  tending 
to  the  introduction  of  Drawing  as  a  branch  of  General 
Education."  • 

The  system  is  gradually  finding  its  way  into  public 
and  private  Schools  throughout  the  country. 


220  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

When  I  was  but  a  young  Student  of  art  in  my  father's 
house,  I  knew  of  only  one  other  in  the  City,  and  heard 
of  none  besides — this  was  Jeremiah  Paul,  son  of  a  School- 
master among  the  Quakers,  who  perversely  preferred 
painting  to  school-keeping.  He  had  great  talents,  was 
flattered,  feasted  and  destroyed.  At  that  time  there  was 
not  a  Print  Shop  in  any  of  our  cities.  Boydell  had  sent 
over,  as  a  venture,  a  choice  collection  of  Engravings  for 
sale  ;  some  were  sacrificed  at  auction,  and  the  residue  sent 
back  to  London ;  as  few  persons  were  disposed  to  give 
dollars  for  a  sheet  of  paper,  no  matter  how  much  art  was 
displayed  upon  it.  At  that  time,  too,  we  were  obliged  to 
procure  our  painting  materials  from  the  Apothecary's 
Shop,  and  levigate  and  refine  them  ourselves.  There  was 
but  one  Gilder,  a  poor  Frenchman,  who  could  scarcely  get 
a  living. 

Now  who  can  count  the  Gilders,  Print  Shops,  Artists' 
repositories,  Painters  in  every  village.  Exhibitions  of 
Paintings,  and  even  competitors  in  Europe  from  the 
American  shores  ?  It  is  my  conviction  that  the  words  of 
Mr.  West,  spoken  to  me  in  1802,  are  being  realized — 
that  the  Arts,  which  have  been  travelling  westward,  were 
about  to  leave  the  old  continent  to  flourish  in  the  new. 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


221 


Although  we  have  preferred  publishing  the  chaste 
and  modest  account  Mr.  Peale  has  here  given  of  himself, 
rather  than  use  one  entirely  our  own,  yet  it  would  be  an 
act  of  injustice  to  the  cause  of  Art  to  close  this  sketch 
without  a  more  particular  description  of  the  Painter's 
great  work.  The  Court  of  Death.  There  are  many 
reasons  why  this  celebrated  production  merits  a  special 
review. 

The  Court  of  Death,  was  the  first  large  picture  ex- 
ecuted in  this  country,  and  we  believe  no  other  painter 
in  modern  times  has  attempted  to  compose  a  work  on  the 
model  recommended  by  the  Ancient  Greek  Writers. 
Perhaps  no  work  of  art  has  ever  been  executed  by  an 
American  which  has  been  the  subject  of  so  much  dispute. 

This  we  imagine  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  sup- 
posing that  the  community  generally  have  no  standard 
by  which  to  judge  of  such  a  work,  it  being  the  only  one 
in  this  country  of  the  ancient  Greek  style,  and  are 
not  therefore  prepared  to  recognize  so  immediately  its 
beauties. 

Artists  in  America  are  surrounded  by  many  inauspi- 
cious circumstances  ;  not  the  least  unfavorable  of  which 
is  the  standard  by  which  their  merits  are  to  be  decided. 
Here  questions  of  art  and  taste  are  settled  by  the  same 
Tribunal  which  decides  political  discussions,  while  in 
Europe  such  pretensions  even  from  political  journals 
of  the  highest  reputation,  would  only  excite  ridicule. 
There  questions  of  this  kind  are  left  to  the  ripe  judgment 
of  men  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  congenial  studies. 


222  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

An  illustration  occurs  to  me  which  I  will  allude  to. 
When  Power's  '  Greek  Slave  '  was  exhibited  in  London, 
although  almost  every  English  journal  noticed  it,  yet  very 
few  presumed  to  speak  critically  of  its  merits.  This 
was  the  province  of  journals  devoted  exclusively  to  the 
Fine  Arts  and  to  Literature.  But  there  are  few  newspa- 
pers in  the  United  States  which  would  not  esteem  them- 
selves thoroughly  competent  to  dispatch  the  'Greek 
Slave'  or  even  Michael  Angelo's  '  Last  Judgment'  in  a 
single  paragraph,  after  a  glance  of  five  minutes.  In  such 
a  state  of  things  there  are  few  journals  from  which  Artists 
and  writers  on  the  Fine  Arts  do  not  expect  either  flat- 
tery, or  condemnation.  They  are  aware  that  their  repu- 
tation will  not  be  finally  decided  by  such  tribunals,  but 
for  the  time,  they  suffer  from  the  ignorance,  and  prejudices 
of  those  who  presume  to  attempt  to  form  public  opinion  on 
matters  they  know  very  little  about.  It  is  not  strange 
then  that  Mr.  Peale  has  suffered  with  other  Artists  of 
the  times.  The  opinions  of  a  man  like  John  Neal,  which 
ought  to  outweigh  in  such  a  matter  the  criticisms  of  a  regi- 
ment of  politicians,  are  unheeded.  John  Neal  is  a 
gentleman  of  exquisite  taste  and  analytical  genius — but 
his  opinion  about  art  would  be  treated  by  many  persons 
as  worth  just  exactly  as  much  as  John  Smith's.  Artists 
feel  the  truth  of  all  this — but  they  know  they  cannot  ex- 
press their  feehngs  with  impunity,  and  they  are  waiting 
quietly  for  better  days  to  come. 

No  just  or  intelligent  opinion  can  be  given  on  any 
work  of  Art,  unless  the  design  of  the  Artist  is  perfectly 
understood.  It  is  also  important  to  know  the  history  of 
such  works.  We  shall  first  make  some  extracts  from  a 
letter  of  Mr.  Peale,  in  which  he  gives 


•REMBRANDT  PEALE.  223 

I.  A  History  of  the  Court  of  Death. 

Philadelphia,  December  1,  1845. 
Dear  Sir: 

In  answer  to  your  inquiry  concerning  the  Origin  of  my  Picture  of 
the  Court  of  Death,  I  shall  briefly  and  simply  narrate  the  process 
of  its  invention.  Accidentally  taking  up  Bishop  Porteus'  Poem  on 
Death,  poetical  as  may  be  deemed  his  description  of  the  Cavern  of 
Death,  and  familiar  as  his  personifications  may  have  been  to  the  minds 
of  literary  men,  it  struck  me  that  a  Picture  thus  representing  Death 
as  a  Monarch  with  his  Ebon  sceptre,  seated  on  a  Throne,  and  having 
on  either  side,  as  Prime  Ministers,  War  and  Old  Age,  and  sending 
forth  Intemperance  and  Disease  as  Agents  to  execute  his  will, — would 
unquestionably  present  an  appalling  Scene,  better  in  the  description 
than  on  the  Canvas.  I  had  seen,  in  Westminister  Abbey,  Roubilliac's 
beautiful  Monumental  Sculpture,  representing  a  Noble  Lady  lying  on 
her  couch  at  the  close  of  life,  and  a  Skeleton,  wonderfully  wrought 
out  of  the  solid  marble,  issuing  from  the  Tomb,  in  an  attitude  of 
vigor,  but  without  Muscle,  directing  his  lance  towards  the  heart  of  the 
Lady  as  his  victim,  and,  with  others,  felt  the  absurdity  of  it.  An 
Angel  to  receive  the  parting  soul  would  be  better.  I  had  seen  West's 
Death  on  the  pale  Horse,  a  most  impressive  Picture,  now  in  the 
Academy  in  this  City,  but  my  veneration  of  the  Artist  could  not  recon- 
cile me  to  his  personifications  ;  for  though  he  has  given  the  figure  Mus- 
cles, they  are  dried  up — to  say  nothing  of  the  fire  from  his  mouth  and 
the  lightning  from  his  hand ;  yet  I  had  an  idea  that  the  case  might  be 
more  fairly  stated  on  the  canvas.  I  imagined  how  I  should  attempt 
to  paint  a  Subject  founded  on  Porteus'  Poem,  and  immediately  began 
to  sketch  with  my  pencil  on  a  piece  of  shingle  which  chanced  to  be 
in  my  hand,  a  figure  enveloped  in  Drapery,  which  indicated  form 
and  power,  with  a  shadowy  but  fixed  Countenance,  and  with  extended 
Arms,  as  a  Judge  issuing  a  decree.  At  his  feet  I  drew  a  prostrate 
Corpse,  and  on  one  side  the  figure  of  an  Old  Man,  submissively  ap- 
preaching.  I  had  a  faint  Conception  of  War  going  forth,  impelled  by 
his  own  passions,  and  of  Intemperance,  Luxury  and  Disease;  but 
having  no  intention  to  paint  such  a  Scene,  I  threw  my  board  away  and 
thought  no  more  of  it. 

A  month  afterwards  one  of  my  little  daughters  produced  the  board, 
with  my  sketch  upon  it.  I  was  flattered  by  imagining  there  was 
some  merit  in  it,  and  I  added  a  few  more  figures,  thus  fixing  the 
subject  in  my  mind,  which  I  immediately  transferred  to  a  small  piece 


2^  REMBRANDT   PEALE.' 

of  canvas,  and  consulted  my  father,  without  sending  him  my  design, 
whether  I  should  paint  the  Picture  in  large.  His  prudent  advice  was 
"  No."  But  some  months  after,  being  on  a  visit  to  me  in  Baltimore, 
I  showed  him  my  design,  when  he  enthusiastically  said,  "  Begin  it 
immediately  !"  My  Painting-Room  was  too  small,  and  I  had  to  build 
a  larger  one  expressly  for  it,  during  which  I  prepared  a  large  canvas, 
and  executed  many  studies  from  the  life,  of  figures,  heads,  hands,  &c. 
My  good  and  venerable  Father  stood  as  the  representative  of  Old 
Age,  modified  by  the  Antique  Bust  of  Homer ;  one  of  my  Daughters 
stood  in  the  place  of  Virtue,  Religion,  Hope ;  and  another  knelt  to  the 
Attitude  of  Pleasure,  I  borrowing  a  Countenance  from  my  imagin- 
ation. My  friend  and  critic,  John  Neal,  of  Portland,  impersonated 
the  Warrior,  beneath  whom  a  friend  consented  to  sink  to  the  earth  in 
distress,  and  Ihus  appeared  as  the  Mother  of  a  Naked  Child,  which  I 
painted  from  my  then  youngest  daughter.  The  Corpse  was  thq  joint 
result  of  a  study  from  a  subject  in  the  Medical  College  and  the  assist- 
ance of  my  brother  Franklin,  lying  prostrate,  with  inverted  head, 
which  was  made  a  likeness  of  Mr.  Smith,  founder  of  the  Baltimore 
Hospital ;  my  brother,  also,  though  of  irreproachable  temperance,  stood 
for  the  inebriated  Youth ;  my  wife  and  others  served  to  fill  up  the 
background.  It  may  be  worth  while  to  mention,  that  for  the  figure 
of  Famine,  following  in  the  train  of  War,  I  could  find  no  model, 
though  I  sought  her  in  many  a  haunt  of  Misery,  and  therefore  drew 
her  from  my  brain  ;  but  strange  to  say,  two  weeks  after  the  picture 
was  finished,  a  woman  passed  my  window,  who  might  have  been  sworn 
to  as  the  Original. 

I  had  not  employed  the  Mythology  of  the  Ancients  nor  the  symbols 
of  other  Artists.  It  was  not  an  Allegorical  Picture,  composed  aft^er 
the  examples  of  Lebrun,  or  of  any  School.  I  had  read  some  remarks 
by  Pliny  on  a  style  of  painting  which  he  recommended  as  capable  of 
embodying  thought,  principle  and  character,  without  the  aid  of  Con- 
ventional Allegory,  and  described  one  on  these  principles  painted  by 
Apelles,  and  approved  by  the  Multitude.  This  picture  of  the  Court 
of  Death  is  an  approach  to  that  style — at  any  rate,  it  was  the  first 
large  Picture,  whatever  may  be  its  merits  or  its  faults,  that  has  been 
attempted  in  modern  times,  upon  the  same  broad  and  universal  prin. 
ciples.  I  would  lay  claim  to  some  little  credit  for  the  stand  I  took  in 
reprobation  of  Intemperance,  before  that  subject  was  introduced  to 
popular  notice  ;  and  the  Society  of  Friends,  at  least,  will  give  me 
credit  for  my  views  of  the  Glory  and  Magnanimity  of  War ;  whilst 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


226 


the  philosophic  Christian  must  agree  with  the  picture  that  Death  has 
no  terror  in  the  eyes  of  Virtuous  Old  Age,  and  of  Innocence,  Faith 
and  Hope. 

II.  The  Design  of  the  Artist. 

A  complete  conception  of  the  design  of  the  painter 
is  necessary  to  understand  any  historical  painting,  more 
particularly  one  of  this  style.  Mr.  Peale  was  therefore 
wise  in  writing  a  description  of  his  Court  of  Death, 
himself.  We  extract  enough  of  it  to  answer  our  pur- 
pose : — 

'• Deep  in  a  murky  cave's  recess, 


Laved  by  Oblivion's  listless  stream,  and  fenced 

By  shelving  rocks  and  intermingled  horrors,  * 

Of  yew  and  cypress  shade,  from  all  obtrusion 

Of  busy  noon-tide  beam,  the  Monarch  sits 

In  unsubstantial  majesty."  Porteus. 

The  Picture  of  the  Court  of  Death  is  an  attempt  to  intro- 
duce pure  fgurative  painting,  in  the  place  of  obscure  personifications 
and  obsolete  symbols,  as  hitherto  employed  in  allegory.  It  is  a  dis- 
course on  life  and  death,  equally  interesting  to  all  ages  and  classes ; 
delivered  in  the  universal  language  of  nature,  the  silent  eloquence 
of  the  painter's  art,  which  speaks  not  by  the  slow  progression  of 
words,  but  strikes  the  heart  at  once  as  with  an  electric  glance.  Such 
an  exhibition  is  calculated  to  lessen  the  misconceptions  of  prejudice 
and  terror,  and  to  render  useful  the  rational  contemplation  of  death. 

The  power  of  Death,  personified  as  a  decree  of  the  Deity,  is  in- 
dicated by  an  antique  form,  coeval  with  man.  The  head,  therefore, 
reminds  us  of  the  first  inhabitants  of  Egypt,  the  original  residence 
of  the  human  race.  It  is  not  a  skeleton  of  the  graveyard,  as  hitherto 
painted,  exhibiting  action  without  muscle,  or  muscles  dried  up  and 
useless.  It  is  not  represented  as  a  bugbear  of  the  nursery,  nor  as 
the  king  of  terrors ;  but  as  an  inflexible  Judge,  silently  superintend- 
ing the  progress  of  time  and  the  inroads  of  disorder  upon  the  life  of 
man.  The  dark  curtain  of  obscurity  is  raised  to  impress  the  senti- 
ment of  awful  sublimity,  by  a  mysterious  form  of  strength  and  irre- 
sistible power,  perceived  beneath  the  folds  of  massive  drapery,  and 
seated  on  a  shroud.     It  is  a  countenance  of  inteUigence,  yet  its 

16  • 


226  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

knowledge  lies  within  lips  that  speak  not.  The  glance  of  his  eye, 
and  the  frown  of  his  brow,  are  sufficient  to  arrest  the  proudest  ca- 
reer  ;  and  his  outstretched  arm  seems  to  limit  the  duration  of  erring 
mortal  life. 

The  most  impressive  idea  of  Death  is  excited  by  the  appearance 
of  a  DEAD  BODY,  which  receives  the  strongest  ray  of  light  in  the  pic- 
ture.— ^It  is  the  body  of  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  by  some  casualty, 
to  which  all  are  liable,  rendered  lifeless,  prostrate  as  a  footstool  to  the 
mysterious  power.  His  head  and  feet  reach  the  waters  of  oblivion 
— scare  his  beginning  and  his  end  unknown. 

On  the  right  hand,  the  whole  group  is  expressive  of  War,  by 
which  the  passions  of  man  produce  premature  and  violent  death 
The  Warrior  is  depicted  with  a  countenance  agitated  by  ambition 
and  revenge. 

His  shield  is  held  up  for  his  own  defence,  but  his  determined 
arm  threatens  the  life  of  his  fellow-man.  His  sword  is  already 
stained — its  victim  expires  behind  him,  no  longer  deceived  by  vis- 
ionary  glory.  A  naked  and  helpless  Infant  reaches  for  protection 
to  its  weak,  and  desolate,  and  widowed  Mother  ;  who,  sinking  to  the 
earth,  repels  from  her  downcast  eye  the  unnatural  horror.  The 
Warrior  heeds  them  not.  His  humanity  seems  to  spare  them — he 
disdains  to  crush  them — but  their  misery  remains  to  reproach  his 
cruelty.  Want,  with  supplicating  hands,  follows  close  behind.  Her 
famished  form  serves  to  increase  the  unrelenting  sternness  of  his 
countenance.  Dread  presses  onward  in  the  train,  and  seems  to  ap- 
prehend the  air  as  charged  with  pestilence.  The  Warrior's  darken- 
ing path  is  lighted  by  the  torch  of  Desolation,  advancing  from  the 
cavern's  gloomy  recesses. 

Beneath  the  outstretched  arm  of  Death,  stoops  the  alluring  sem- 
blance of  Pleasure.  The  smoke  of  her  incense  rises  to  soften  and 
obscure  the  countenance  of  Death.  Her  hand  prepares  another  in- 
toxicating  draught ;  and  her  animated  features  entice  only  to  betray. 
A  Youth,  whose  interesting  form  might  promise  a  more  honorable 
destiny,  stands  relaxed,  the  stupid  and  disappointed  slave,  rather  than 
the  participator,  of  pleasure. 

A  companion  of  Intemperance  lies  at  his  feet,  clasping  his  throb- 
bing brain — another,  at  his  left  shoulder,  hiding  his  guilty  face,  ex- 
presses the  anguish  of  Remorse — and  another,  behind  him,  is  plun- 
ging the  dagger  into  his  heart.  Like  them,  he  must  suffer  the  pangs 
of  frenzy,  and  the  burnings  of  remorse  ;  and  were  he  to  look  back 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


227 


on  his  own  shadow,  he  would  perceive  the  form  of  Suicide.     The 
hand  of  Intemperance  is  equally  raised  to  take  his  own  life. 

A  darkened  group  of  disease  and  misery,  the  victims  of  luxury 
and  intemperate  pleasure,  fills  up  the  left  hand  portion  of  the  Grotto : 
Gout  —  Dropsy  —  Apoplexy — Hypochondeia — Fever — Consump- 
tion. 

"  Torn  immature  from  life's  meridian  joys, 
A  prey  to  vice,  intemperance,  and  disease  !  " 

Returning  to  the  centre  of  the  Picture,  one  of  the  most  promineni 
objects  is  the  figure  of  venerable  OLD  AGE,  supported  by  VIR- 
TUE. 

"  Peace,  O  Virtue  !  peace  is  all  thy  own."  With  eyes  of  hope 
upraised  to  heaven,  she  breathes  the  prayer  of  holiest  resignation — 
"Father,  thy  will  be  done."  Old  Age,  bending  at  the  close  of  Life 
— the  faded  purple  of  his  worldly  power  falling  from  his  shoulders — 
his  foot  on  the  verge  of  oblivion, — beholds  the  prospect  without  alarm, 
and  submits  with  cheerfulness  to  the  divine  law.  Virtue  still  sup- 
ports him,  and  looks  the  sentiments  he  feels. 

With  locks  of  silver,  there 

Ag-^  gently  press  s  nnar  the  throne  : 
'Tis  not  for  him  to  f-t  1  a  fear  ; 
Nor  comes  lie  trr.nibiingly  alone : 
His  foot  is  in  oblivion's  wat«^r} 
But  see,  his  lov<-Ii<  st,  holiest  daughter, 
VIRTUE,  aids  him  ;  while  upraising 
Eyes  oft  turned  toward  hiavtn  in  praising, 

Saying,  Almighty  !  may  thy  will  be  done. 

Dr.  Godhah. 

III.     How  HAS  THE  Artist  executed  his  design.'' 

Criticism  begins  by  making  this  inquiry,  for  the 
Painter  may  consult  his  own  taste  in  the  choice  of  his 
subject.  I  have  visited  the  Court  of  Death  repeatedly  this 
winter  and  endeavored  to  study  it  carefully.  As  every 
spectator  should  do,  I  first  read  the  Artist's  description 
and  became  familiar  with  his  design.  While  I  was  deep- 
ly impressed  with  the  painting,  during  my  first  visit,  I  did 


228  REMBRANDT  PEALE. 

not  leave  with  that  feeling  of  satisfaction  I  had  anticipa- 
ted, for  I  had  heard  some  individuals  of  great  taste  and 
wide  observation  speak  of  it  with  enthusiastic  admiration. 
On  my  second  visit  I  experienced  much  greater 
pleasure  than  at  first,  and  a  third  visit  explained  the  mys- 
tery. The  work  differed  so  materially  from  any  1  had 
ever  seen,  I  could  not  at  once  become  familiar  with  it, 
and  I  am  persuaded  that  we  can  never  feel  very  high 
admiration  for  any  object  until  the  mind  has  become  in 
some  measure  familiar  with  it.  It  is  as  true  with  great 
works  of  art  as  it  is  with  great  authors,  the  more  we 
know  them  the  better  we  love  them.  Homer  delights 
the  scholar  most  the  last  time  he  reads  him,  and  no  de- 
gree of  familiarity  with  the  creations  of  Raphael  lessens 
our  enthusiasm.  I  found  that  every  repeated  visit  to  this 
extraordinary  picture,  gave  me  greater  satisfaction,  al- 
though what  I  esteem  to  be  its  faults  appeared  still  more 
evident.  The  form  of  Death,  which  at  first  seemed  too 
dark  and  obscure,  gradually  moved  forth  from  the  Can- 
vas into  bold  relief,  and  I  was  particularly  impressed  with 
the  countenance,  the  drapery,  and  the  form  itself.  The 
Egyptian  type  of  countenance  carried  my  fancy  back  far 
into  antiquity,  and  I  seemed  to  see  the  living  form  of  that 
stern  power  which  has  from  the  earliest  ages  sat  in  judg- 
ment upon  the  race,  and  held  a  steady  and  unquailing 
gaze  upon  all  the  sorrows  and  desolations  of  man.  He 
was  obscure  only  from  distance  and  time.  It  was  to  me 
the  most  appropriate  and  impressive  portraiture  of  Death 
I  had  ever  seen ;  next  to  the  form  of  Death,  nothing 
struck  me  so  forcibly  as  the  murky  atmosphere  of  the  cave, 
it  is  an  atmosphere  unlike  that  of  a  common  cave,  it  is 
not  dark,  it  is  murky ;  it  is  not  cold,  although  it  chills 
one  to  gaze  on  it ;  it  is  not  damp,  although  the  waters 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


229 


of  oblivion  are  flowing  by  the  feet  of  the  living  and  the 
dead.  In  this  respect  Peale  has  surpassed  West,  who 
painted  every  thing  in  detail  leaving  nothing  for  the  im- 
agination. I  have  n«ver  seen  any  mystery  about  West's 
pictures ;  this  quality  he  did  not  possess,  and  yet  no  play 
can  be  given  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader  or  specta- 
tor, unless  the  author  or  artist  conducts  up  to  the  line 
that  divides  the  visible  from  the  invisible.  There  have 
been  few  things  painted  more  beautifully  than  the  figures 
of  Old  Age  and  Virtue.  One  would  suppose  they  were 
painted  long  after  the  rest  of  the  picture ;  the  colouring 
seems  to  belong  to  quite  another  school ;  it  is  worthy  of 
any  artist's  pencil,  of  any  school.  I  have  never  seen 
a  countenance  where  all  that  is  beautiful  in  "  the  earthly 
and  the  heavenly"  was  portrayed  together  with  more  ef- 
fect. Critics  should  consider  the  difficulties  the  painter 
had  to  contend  with  in  many  of  his  figures,  for  they  are 
almost  insurmountable.  But  in  the  three  figures  we 
have  mentioned,  they  seem  to  have  been  successfully 
overcome. 

But  not  so  with  the  countenance  of  the  Warrior. 
The  painter  wished  to  depict  a  face  "  agitated  by  ambi- 
tion and  revenge."  But  his  countenance  is  too  sad  and 
troubled  for  the  face  of  a  Warrior.  There  is  some  trace 
of  regret,  of  shrinking  from  blood  and  desolation,  which 
cannot  be  reconciled  with  the  absorbing  passions  of  am- 
bition and  revenge.  In  the  smoke  and  desperation  of 
battle  the  Warrior  feels  no  remorse,  no  misgivings,  no 
compassion — these  emotions  may  be  felt  when  he  walks 
over  the  field  of  the  slain,  where  he  has  laid  prostrate  his 
victims.  But  the  form  of  the  Warrior  is  nobly  drawn. 
Every  muscle  is  turned  to  inflexible  iron,  and  his  tramp 
like  that  of  the  war-horse,  would  crush  what  he  trod  on 


230  REMBRANDT   PEALE. 

The  countenance  of  Want  is  admirable,  and  recalled 
to  my  recollection  the  instant  I  gazed  on  it,  the  central 
figm-e  of  Michael  Angelo's  Parche.  Desolation  lights  up 
the  path  of  the  Warrior  with  her  torch — Dread  presses 
on  behind  him  in  the  steps  of  Famine.  The  group  is 
one  of  the  most  impressive  parts  of  the  picture. 

The  form  of  Pleasure  is  beautiful,  and  a  glance  from 
it  to  Virtue  gives  the  best  commentary  upon  the  success 
of  the  Artist.  In  the  one  there  is  nothing  but  what 
would  make  us  better — ^in  the  other  nothing  that  would 
not  make  us  worse,  and  yet  they  are  both  beautiful. 
The  incense  which  rises  from  Pleasure's  vase  floats  over 
the  face  of  Death,  and  obscures  him  partly  from  the 
sight  of  the  victims  of  Seduction.  1  was  not  so  well 
pleased  with  the  figure  of  the  Youth  standing  by  the  side 
of  Pleasure  There  is  "  a  darkened  group  of  disease 
and  misery  ;  the  victims  of  Luxury  and  intemperate  plea- 
sures fill  up  the  left-hand  portion  of  the  grotto : — Gout 
— Dropsy — Apoplexy — Hypochondria — Fever — Con- 
sumption." These  figures  are  not  drawn  with  sufficient 
distinctness — and  this  part  of  the  picture  is  too  dark — I 
should  judge  that  the  Artist  had  not  touched  the  group 
since  1820 — ^when  the  picture  was  finished.  It  is  in 
every  respect  an  inferior  style  of  drawing,  colouring  and 
arrangement  to  the  rest  of  the  work.  It  is  still  in  the 
power  of  the  painter  to  add  infinitely  to  the  value  of  the 
piece  by  re-touching  this  group — particularly  the  figure 
of  Consumption.  This  terrible  disease,  instead  of  being 
represented  in  the  form  of  an  insensible,  mature,  gloomy 
woman,  who  has  passed  the  age  of  youth  and  feeling, 
should  be  personified  by  a  youthful  creature,  who  is 
fading  gently  and  calmly  away.  Irving's  pencil  has 
painted  the  scene  in  his  Broken  Heart.     "  She  is  like 


REMBRANDT  PEALE. 


231 


some  tender  tree,  the  pride  and  the  beauty  of  the  grove 
— graceful  in  its  form,  bright  in  its  foliage,  but  with  the 
worm  preying  at  its  heart.  We  find  it  suddenly  wither- 
ing when  it  should  be  most  fresh  and  luxuriant.  We  see 
it  drooping  its  branches  to  the  earth,  and  shedding  leaf  by 
leaf,  until  wasted  and  perished  away,  it  falls  even  in  the 
stillness  of  the  forest :  and  as  we  muse  o'er  the  beautiful 
ruin,  we  strive  in  vain  to  recollect  the  blast  or  thunder- 
bolt that  could  have  smitten  it  with  decay."  Such 
models  are  not  wanting  for  the  painter.  In  our  fatal 
climate  thousands  of  the  brightest  and  most  beautiful  fall 
victims  to  that  still  but  dreadful  destroyer.  The  figure 
is  near  the  mouth  of  the  Grotto,  and  a  beautiful  light 
could  be  thrown  upon  it  from  the  calm  heavens  beyond 
— a  form  could  be  drawn  there  that  would  recall  to  every 
spectator  the  image  of  some  lovely  and  lost  being  who 
had  once  smiled  around  his  fire-side  altars ;  and  the  re- 
collection would  make  him  weep. 

But  we  have  already  said  too  much  about  this  paint- 
ing. These  remarks  are  made  with  no  unkind  feeling 
— we  have  studied  this  noble  work,  and  it  has  given  us 
pleasure.  However  little  our  tribute  of  admiration  may 
be  worth,  we  cannot  withhold  it  from  the  Court  of  Death. 
In  gazing  on  it  we  felt  the  truth  of  Neal's  saying  about 
it — "  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  and  best  pictures  of  our 
day.  It  is  a  grand  poem  on  canvas."  Those  who  have 
the  agency  in  its  exhibition  in  different  parts  of  the 
country,  are  rendering  to  our  people  the  highest  ser- 
vice. Many  thousands  have  thus  afforded  them  an  oppor- 
tunity of  contemplating  a  great  work  of  Art,  which  must 
carry  with  it  a  benign  influence. 


■•i 


c\Ri^.^^@m 


rom.  a  pencil    slstch  "by  Kuchler . 


THOMAS    CRAWFORD. 


:X^ 


THOMAS    CEAWFORD. 


Thomas  Crawford,  who  now  stands  among  the 
first  living  Sculptors,  was  born  in  New- York  just  thirty- 
two  years  ago  to-day  (March  22d).  We  are  made  fami- 
liar with  his  early  history  by  those  who  have  known  him 
from  childhood,  and  we  hazard  nothing  in  saying  that 
there  are  few  men  who  have  displayed  from  a  very  early 
age  a  more  striking  propensity  for  Art,  or  who  have  de- 
voted themselves  to  it  through  youth  and  manhood  with 
more  earnestness,  perseverance  and  enthusiasm. 

Few  men  accomplish  much  in  life,  who  do  not  follow 
up  the  ruling  passions  and  impulses  of  boyhood.  Those 
who  have  to  force  themselves  through  professions  or 
pursuits  uncongenial  with  their  natural  tastes,  are  al- 
ways outstripped  by  those  who  follow  the  occupations 
they  love.  Nothing  but  congeniality  begets  earnestness, 
and  earnestness  alone  can  awaken  the  enthusiasm  which 
ensures  success. 

Like  all  American  boys,  Crawford  was  sent  early  to 
school,  and  after  he  had  gone  through  the  ordinary  rou- 
tine of  a  common  education,  he  took  up  the  Greek  and 
Latin  classics,  with  which  he  at  last  became  vei^'  fami- 
liar, and  their  spirit  breathes  from  many  of  his  works 


236  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

His  after-school  hours  were  almost  always  employed  in 
copying  pictures  in  water  colors,  and  in  reading  about 
Art  and  Artists.  He  was  a  frequenter  of  auction-rooms, 
where  books  and  engravings  were  sold,  and  his  supply 
of  pocket  money  was  always  devoted  to  the  little  pur- 
chases he  felt  himself  able  to  make,  and  every  exhibi- 
tion of  works  of  art  in  the  city  he  was  sure  to  attend. 

His  fondness  for  sketching  was  encouraged  by  his 
father,  who  sent  him  very  early  to  a  teacher  of  drawing, 
where  his  rapid  progress  equally  astonished  and  delighted 
his  friends  and  his  master.  Had  he  known  any  of  the 
Artists  at  this  time,  he  would  have  begun  the  study  of 
painting.  But  he  was  acquainted  with  none  of  them, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  no  particular  prospect  of  his  be- 
ing thrown  into  circumstances  likely  to  favor  the  devel- 
opment of  his  artistic  taste. 

From  reading  about  Sculptors  and  Painters,  sketch- 
ing heads,  and  coloring  old  castles,  his  father  now  wished 
to  direct  his  attention  to  mercantile  pursuits,  which  in 
this  country  hold  out  greater  prospects  of  gain  than  the 
liberal  professions.  But  the  boy  clung  to  his  paint-box- 
es and  books,  and  his  indulgent  father  without  a  struggle 
told  him  he  could  choose  the  pursuit  he  liked  best — a 
wise  and  a  sensible  answer — as  the  experience  of  any 
father  who  tries  to  force  his  son  to  a  pursuit  against  his 
fixed  inclination,  will  finally  prove  ! 

He  had  often  visited  the  work-shop  of  a  carver  in 
wood,  then  doing  an  extensive  business  in  the  city,  and 
he  looked  with  delight  on  the  beautifully  designed  and 
executed  ornaments  on  which  the  workmen  were  en- 
gaged. His  choice  was  made — he  would  be  a  carver, 
and  he  entered  the  atelier. 

Here  he  remained  for  a  while,  drawing  and  carving, 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD.  237 

and  at  the  same  time  pursuing  the  study  of  architecture. 
But  he  was  not  yet  in  his  element — he  wanted  some- 
thing higher  and  nobler  for  the  exercise  of  his  genius, 
and  now  commenced  a  new  career. 

He  began  making  a  collection  of  casts  and  bas-reliefs 
— among  the  latter  were  the  friezes  of  the  Parthenon 
and  Thorvaldsen's  Triumph  of  Alexander — that  great- 
est of  all  modern  works  which  was  commissioned  by 
Napoleon  for  the  Quirinal  Palace,  for  ;^  100,000,  and 
which  is  now  preserved  in  the  Villa  Sommariva,  on  the 
western  shore  of  Lake  Como.  Like  a  miser  who 
adds  daily  to  his  hoards,  he  was  continually  bringing 
home  some  addition  to  his  treasures.  At  last  he 
bought  some  clay  and  carried  a  portion  of  it  to  his  room, 
and  began  to  model.  "A  strange  looking  place  was 
it,  that  same  room,"  says  a  lady  friend  of  the  Artist, 
"  covered  with  sketches  in  pencil,  charcoal  and  red  lead  ; 
the  floor  strewed  with  hands  and  feet — the  tables  co- 
vered with  engravings  and  bas-reliefs,  and  the  boy  (for 
he  was  then  about  eighteen)  trying  to  create  images  of 
beauty,  such  as  filled  his  heart,  from  the  chaotic  mass 
around  him."  At  this  time  he  entered  the  studio  of  Mr. 
Frazee,  and  his  friend  and  associate  Mr.  Launitz,  where 
he  remained  till  he  sailed  for  Italy.  He  devoted  him- 
self now  for  some  years  with  the  greatest  earnestness  to 
Sculpture — nor  tried  to  get  rid  of  hard  work — nor  tried 
to  get  round  that  ugly  dismal  swamp,  which  even  genius 
itself  must  cross  before  it  can  stand  on  the  mountains. 
He  attended  the  Drawing  School  in  the  Academy  of  the 
Arts  of  Design,  for  a  considerable  time,  while  he  was  in 
the  studio  of  Frazee  and  Launitz.  Those  students  who 
were  drawing  with  him  knew  how  well  he  worked. 

It  had  long  been  a  secretly  cherished  wish  to  gaze  on 


238  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

all  those  wonders  of  Art  with  which  many  descriptions, 
and  a  thousand  fancy  dreams  had  made  him  familiar. 
But  this  desire  he  hardly  dared  to  express  with  soberness 
— for  how  he  should  accomplish  his  purpose,  if  indeed 
he  formed  one  of  going  abroad,  he  could  not  tell.  But 
he  worked  on — with  the  waving  outlines  of  a  thousand 
master-pieces  of  the  ancient  world  floating  before  him — 
living  on  hope — with  a  strength  of  character  and  stead- 
iness of  purpose,  that  would  not  yield  to  discouragement, 
and  yet,  withal,  a  high  and  almost  wild  dreaming  of  the 
fame  he  believed  he  could  win,  could  he  one  day,  if 
not  too  distant,  stand  in  that  fair  land  which  is  the  only 
one  on  earth  that  does  not  cheat  the  Poet's  fancy,  nor 
break  the  charm  its  name  bears  to  the  Artist  struggling 
in  a  distant  country. 

He  had  never  been  away  from  his  home  but  a  few 
weeks  at  a  time — how  could  he,  of  quick  sensibilities  and 
warm  affections,  break  up  the  little  home-circle  where 
all  that  he  loved  was  clustered,  and  go  forth  alone  to 
study  and  to  toil  for  fame  in  a  land  of  strangers  ?  It 
was  a  bold  step  to  be  taken  by  so  young  a  man,  but  he 
had  never  been  deterred  by  difficulties — his  strength,  like 
every  genuine  man's,  rose  as  they  gathered  around  him, 
until  he  finally  conquered  every  obstacle. 

His  indulgent  parents,  perceiving  that  nothing  else 
would  satisfy  the  restless  and  eager  craving  of  his 
mind,  furnished  him  with  the  means  of  going  abroad. 
He  sailed  for  the  South  of  Europe  in  1834,  in  a  vessel 
bound  to  Gibraltar  and  Leghorn,  and  after  a  long  voyage 
of  seventy  days  he  entered  Rome. 

He  had  now  reached  the  goal  of  all  his  hopes,  and 
for  some  time  he  was  like  one  bewildered,  and  could  do 
nothing  but  wander  amongst  the  treasures  of  Art  and  gaze 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD. 


239 


on  the  glorious  skies  of  Italy.  In  his  first  letter  from 
Rome,  to  a  near  relative  at  home,  he  says : 

"  I  cannot  find  terms  in  which  to  express  the  beauty 
of  the  skies  here.  There  is  a  briUiancy  about  them  1 
have  never  seen  in  America — a  delicate  blue,  so  trans- 
parent that  you  would  suppose  there  was  nothing  be- 
tween it  and  the  seventh  heaven.  And  the  clouds — O 
how  lovely  they  are,  particularly  after  rain,  or  at  sunset ! 
You  ought  to  stand  with  me  on  the  Pincean  Mount,  and 
see  the  sun  bid  good  night  to  Rome  !  'Tis  strange  that 
I,  who  have  a  love  for  every  thing  beautiful  in  nature, 
cannot  find  words  to  express  my  admiration.  I  have 
stood  for  hours  on  the  deck  of  the  ship  at  sea  and  watched 
the  moon  as  she  calmly  floated  through  the  heavens — 
sunrise  and  sunset — the  magic  light  that  danced  on  the 
Mediterranean  wave  as  it  broke  arainst  the  side  of  our 
vessel  in  the  silent  night,  have  each  possessed  a  charm 
for  me.  How  I  have  wished  that  you  were  there  to  share 
the  holy  feeling  which  came  over  me  as  I  looked  upon 
it.  Nothing  around  as  far  as  my  sight  could  reach  except 
glistening  foam  on  the  curling  waves,  and  sometimes 
a  solitary  sail  scarce  visible  in  the  distance.  You  may 
have  dreamt  of  the  stillness  which  reigns  over  such  a 
scene — it  is  awful,  and  to  me  was  only  broken  by  some 
startling  thought  of  home  and  its  endearments." 

But  this  dreamy  state  of  existence,  (and  no  man  of 
genius  can  pass  through  life  without  such  feelings  and 
sometimes  using  such  language,)  could  not  continue  long. 
After  the  first  bewilderment  of  ideas  and  feelings,  which 
attends  the  rush  of  a  thousand  new  objects  u\yon  the  im- 
agination, had  passed  away,  he  began  in  Rome  to  address 
himself  soberly  to  the  great  business  of  being  a  Sculptor. 

Launitz  had  given  him  a  Letter  to  Thorvaldsen,  who 


240  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

was  then  on  the  summit  of  his  fame.  The  great  Dane 
received  the  young  American  with  cordiality,  and  offered 
him  the  instruction  of  his  Studio.  In  one  of  his  letters, 
he  thus  speaks  of  the  Sculptor  : 

"  I  am  at  present  in  one  of  Thorvaldsen's  Studios — 
he  has  three.  Thorvaldsen  is  one  of  nature's  gentlemen 
— there  is  no  affectation  about  him.  When  I  entered  the 
Studio  where  he  was,  to  give  my  letter,  he  was  directing 
some  of  the  workmen  concerning  a  colossal  equestrian 
statue.  He  insisted  on  my  keeping  on  the  hat  which  I 
had  taken  from  my  head,  and  after  a  few  minutes  con- 
ducted me  through  his  Studios  and  told  me  that  when- 
ever 1  felt  disposed  I  might  commence  modelling  and 
drawing  in  any  of  them.  They  are  filled  with  casts  from 
his  own  works  and  from  the  best  antiques.  Clay  and 
every  thing  for  modelling  is  brought  to  my  hand,  and  with 
such  opportunities  before  me  I  was  not  backward  in  com- 
mencing. There  is  but  one  young  man  besides  myself 
in  the  Studio — he  is  a  native  of  Rome.  Thorvaldsen 
visits  us  once  a  day,  corrects  what  he  sees  wrong  in  our 
work,  and  after  some  words  of  encouragement  leaves  us. 
You  know  he  is  the  first  sculptor  of  the  age,  and  has 
produced  a  vast  number  of  statues  and  bas-reliefs  of 
the  most  exquisite  beauty — and  he  is  still  producing,  for 
the  fountain  of  his  conceptions  can  only  be  exhausted 
by  death." 

Thus  began  the  Italian  studies  of  Crawford,  and  they 
were  prosecuted  for  a  considerable  time  under  his  illus- 
trious master.  He  enjoyed  the  confidence  and  esteem 
of  the  venerable  Thorvaldsen,  who  honored  him  with  his 
friendship,  and  his  instruction  whenever  it  was  solicited, 
till  he  left  Rome,  which  had  so  long  been  the  field  of  his 
labors  and  his  triumphs,  to  return  to  his  native  country 
to  die. 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD. 


241 


He  finally  established  his  own  studio.  The  death  of 
his  father  left  him,  about  the  same  time,  wholly  dependent 
upon  his  own  exertions.  The  prices  he  received  were 
not  very  large,  but  he  was  willing  to  endure  those  priva- 
tions which  seem  to  be  the  peculiar  birthright  of  genius. 
He  however  did  not  lack  employment.  He  made  quite  a 
number  of  busts  which  gained  him  even  in  Rome  con- 
siderable reputation,  and  elicited  the  warmest  admiration 
of  his  Danish  Master.  Very  few  of  his  busts  have  come 
to  America,  for  like  most  of  our  distinguished  Artists 
abroad,  he  has  been  supported  by  foreigners.  Mr.  Sum- 
ner in  speaking  of  his  busts  says,  "They  are  remarkable 
for  the  fidelity  with  which  they  portra'y  the  countenance, 
and  for  the  classic  elegance  and  simplicity  of  their  com- 
position. The  bust  of  the  late  gallant  Commodore  Hull, 
made  in  Rome  while  he  was  in  command  of  our  Medi- 
terranean squadron,  is  a  beautiful  production.  We  have 
also  seen  the  bust  of  Mr.  Kenyon,  the  English  poet,  which 
has  great  merit.  That  of  Sir  Charles  Vaughan,  the  late 
most  popular  representative  of  the  British  court  at  Wash- 
ington, we  have  not  seen  ;  but  we  have  heard  it  men- 
tioned in  terms  of  high  praise." 

In  1839  he  designed  his  Orpheus,  the  model  of  which 
was  no  sooner  completed  than  he  was  prostrated  with  a 
brain  fever,  the  efiect  of  over  excitement  and  intense 
application.  For  a  long  time  his  recovery  was  doubtful, 
but  his  constitution  naturally  good  triumphed  at  last  over 
disease.  With  half  restored  strength  he  went  again  to  the 
labors  and  excitement  of  his  studio,  and  the  consequence 
was  a  relapse,  which  threatened  to  prove  fatal.  His 
recovery  was  slow. 

His  first  solicitude  after  these  dreadful  illnesses  was 
the  execution  of  his  Orpheus  in  marble,  which  had  been 

16 


242  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

ordered  by  the  Boston  Anthenaeum.  We  quote  a  portion 
of  an  able  description  of  this  classic  work  from  an  article 
in  the  Democratic  Review,  understood  to  be  from  the 
elegant  pen  of  Charles  Sumner,  Esq.,  of  Boston. 

"  Of  all  the  stories  of  antiquity,  not  one  is  more  beau- 
tiful or  touching  than  that  of  Orpheus.  Strange  that  his 
earnest  love,  and  the  unwonted  errand  on  which  it  led 
him,  after  charming  successive  centuries,  and  becoming 
the  theme  of  poets,  should  be  first  recorded  in  marble  by 
a  youthful  artist  whose  sight  opened  in  a  land  far  away 
from  the  country  of  the  hero — beyond  Ultima  Thule — 
beyond  the  Hesperian  Gardens  and  the  Islands  of  the 
Blest — and  beyond*  that  Ocean  which,  poured  round  the 
ancient  world,  seemed  more  impassable  even  than  the 
sullen  waters  that  guarded  Eurydice  !'' 

"  The  tale  is  simple,  and  in  the  memory  of  all.  Young 
men  and  maidens  for  ages  have  listened  to  it,  and  old 
men  in  the  chimney  corner  have  mused  over  it.  To  Or- 
pheus Apollo  gave  a  lyre.  Such  a  gift  from  such  a  god 
was  not  in  vain  ;  and  the  youth  charmed  by  his  music  as 
music  never  charmed  before.  The  rapid  rivers  ceased 
to  flow,  the  mountains  moved,  and  the  rage  of  the  tigers 
was  restrained,  to  listen  to  his  songs.  The  fairest 
nymphs  were  his  companions  !  but  he  heeded  only  Eury- 
dicel  To  her  he  was  united  in  marriage.  But  the 
faithless  Aristaeus  saw  her  and  loved  her.  She  fled  from 
his  approaches,  and  as  she  pressed  the  grass,  in  her 
rapid  flight,  a  serpent  stung  her  foot,  and  she  died.  The 
aymphs  of  the  woods  awakened  the  echoes  of  the  moun- 
tains with  their  sorrows ;  and  the  rocks  of  Rhodope,  the 
lofty  Pangaeus,  the  Hebrus,  and  the  sternest  parts  of 
Thrace  wept.     The  lover  was  desolate  : 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD. 

"  Te,  dulcis  conjux,  te  solo  in  littore  secum, 
Te  veniente  die,  le  dccedente  canebat." 


243 


He  resolved  to  regain  his  lost  bride.  With  his  lyre 
in  his  hand,  he  enters  the  inexorable  gates  of  the  regions 
below.  The  guardian  dog  Cerberus  is  lulled  asleep  by 
the  unaccustomed  strains : 

^—— '  tenuitque  inhians  tria  Cerberus  ora.' 


The  gentle  shades  of  the  dead,  wives  and  husbands, 
magnanimous  heroes,  boys  and  unmarried  girls,  came 
forward  and  wept.  The  grim  ruler  was  startled.  The 
rock  of  Sisyphas  stood  still ;  the  wheel  of  Ixion  ceased  its 
eternal  motion  ;  the  refreshing  water  once  again  bathed 
the  lips  of  Tantalus  :  the  daughters  of  Danaus  suspended 
their  never  ending  task ;  the  Furies,  with  their  necks 
clothed  with  snakes,  ceased  to  rage.  All  listened  rapt 
to  the  music,  and  forgot  their  pains  in  sympathy  with  the 
bereaved  charmer.  And  now  success  has  crowned  his 
efforts.  The  woman's  heart  of  Proserpine  is  touched, 
and  Pluto  yields  to  her  intercession.  Eurydice  is  restor- 
ed, but  with  one  condition.  The  lover  shall  not  turn  to 
look  upon  her  face  until  they  are  both  again  in  the  upper 
air.  Joyful  he  leaves  behind  the  abode  of  Death,  and 
Eurydice  follows  unseen  by  him — ^yet  still  she  follows. 
But  who  shall  impose  restraints  upon  the  longings  of 
love  ?  Forgetful  of  the  stern  condition,  thinking  only  of 
her,  he  casts  one  look  behind.  He  saw  his  Eurydice ; 
but  with  that  vision  she  disappeared  for  ever,  as  a  wreath 
of  smoke  fades  into  the  air.  He  stretched  forth  his  arms 
to  embrace  her,  but  she  was  not  there.  He  raised  his 
voice  to  speak  to  her,  but  she  heard  him  not.  He  en- 
deavored to  retrace  his  steps,  but  the  gates  of  Acheron 
closed  harshly  against  him.     What  shall  he  do  ?     With 


244  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

what  words  shall  he  seek  to  bend  the  will  of  the  Gods  ? 
How  shall  he  assuage  his  own  grief?  All  is  vain  ;  and 
he  soon  meets  with  a  violent  death,  at  the  hands  of  the 
Thracian  women,  enraged  at  his  continued  fidelity  to  the 
memory  of  his  lost  wife,  and  indifference  to  their  living 
charms.  His  head  is  thrown  into  the  Hebrus,  and  as  it 
floats  down  to  the  sea,  the  cold  tongue  lisps  the  name  of 
Eurydice,  and  the  river's  banks  send  back  the  sound, — 

"  Eurydicen  vox  ipsa  etfrigida  lingua, 


Ah,  miseram  Eurydicen,  anima  fugit  nte,  vocabat 
Eurydicen  toto  referebant  flumine  ripse." 

From  the  sweetest  poet  of  antiquity  we  draw  the 
story.  Another  poet  of  modern  times,  whose  great  fame 
in  his  own  age  has  subsided  since  like  a  flood,  made  it  the 
subject  of  a  drama,  which  has  been  called  the  earliest  of 
the  better  sort  of  dramatic  writings  of  which  Italy  can 
boast.  The  drama  is  entitled  Orfeo  Tragedia ;  and  the 
author  is  Angela  Poliziano.  It  was  written  in  1472,  in 
the  space  of  two  days,  at  the  instance  of  the  Cardinal 
Francesco  Gonzaga,  and,  as  it  was  first  acted,  Orpheus 
was  made  to  sing  an  ode  in  Latin  Sapphics  in  honor  of 
the  Cardinal.  This,  however,  now  gives  place  to  a  beau- 
tiful chorus,  in  imitation  of  the  Greeks,  where  the  Dryads 
lament  the  death  of  Eurydice.  The  history  of  Orpheus 
is  pictured  by  Poliziano  with  a  felicity  from  which  Virgil 
might  have  mended  even  his  exquisite  verses.  This  is 
his  first  lament  as  he  appears  at  the  entrance  to  the  In- 
fernal Shades: 

ORFEO. 

Pieta,  pieta;  del  mis  ro  amatore 
Pieta  vi  prenda,  o  Spiriti  Infernali  : 
Quaggiu  m'  lia  scorto  solamente  amore  ; 
Volato  son  quaggiu  con  le  sue  ali. 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD.  246 

T)eh  posa,  Cerber,  posa  il  Uto  furore  ; 

Che  quando  intenderai  tutti  i  miei  mali, 

Non  solamente  tu  piangerai  meco. 

Ma  qualunquu  altru  e  qua  nel  mondo  cicco. 

Non  bisogna  per  me,  Furie,  mugghiarp, 

Non  bisogna  arricciar  tanti  serpenti : 

Che  se  sapeste  le  mie  pene  amars, 

Conipagne  mi  sareste  ai  miei  lamenti, 

Lasciate  questo  miserel  passarp, 

Ch'  ha  il  ciel  nemico,  e  tutti  gli  element!; 

E  vien  perimp^trar  raercedo  o  morte. 

Dunque  mi  aprite  lo  ferrate  porte.  ^ 

It  will  be  observed  that  both  Virgil  and  Poliziano 
indicate  in  a  few  words  the  scene  to  which  Crawford  has 
given  a  new  immortality  by  his  marble.     Virgil  says : 

♦' tenuitque  inhianstria  Curberus  ora." 

And  in  the  verse  of  Poliziano  we  have  the  address  to 
Cerberus : 

"  Deh  posa,  Cerber,  posa  il  tuo  furore." 

It  is  the  moment  when  Cerberus  has  yielded  to  the 
music,  and  closed  the  eyes  of  his  three  heads  in  sleep, 
that  the  artist  has  selected  for  his  chisel.  The  dog  lies 
on  the  ground,  no  longer  offering  any  impediment  to  the 
passage.  Orpheus  steps  forward  with  earnest  action — 
reaching  with  his  body,  as  it  were,  into  the  shades  impen- 
etrable to  mortals.  In  one  hand  he  holds  the  lyre,  which 
has  done  its  first  work  of  conquest ;  and  with  the  other 
he  shades  his  eyes,  that  he  may  better  collect  the  light 
to  guide  his  adventurous  progress.  The  expression  of 
the  body  and  of  the  countenance  are  in  harmony,  and 
they  denote  the  strong  resolve  which  inspires  the  heart 
of  the  lover  to  seek  his  lost  companion.  Nothing  shall 
make  him  hesitate.  He  sees  already  her  image— he 
catches  the  sound  of  her  voice.     He  has  left  the  light  of 


246 


THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 


day  behind  him,  and  he  knows  not  fear.  Move  on,  then, 
eager  soul ;  such  devotion  shall  not  be  without  its  reward. 
The  torments  of  hell  shall  cease  at  your  approach  ;  the 
company  of  the  damned  shall  bless  your  coming  ;  and  at 
least  one  fleeting  vision  of  her  whom  you  have  loved  so 
well  shall  be  yours ! 

''  Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  artist  has  arranged  his  little  group.  The  atti- 
tude of  the  principal  figure,  the  position  of  the  arms,  and 
the  apt  employment  of  drapery,  strike  the  most  careless 
eye.  But  it  is  in  the  selection  of  the  scene,  and  the 
poetical  conception  of  it,  that  Crawford  challenges  our 
warmest  admiration.  It  is  not  known  that  any  other 
sculptor — we  believe  no  other  artist  of  any  kind — has 
illustrated  this  scene.  From  the  pictured  urn  of  the  past 
our  young  countryman  first  drew  it  forth  and  invested 
it  with  the  light  of  his  genius. 

"  It  was  the  writer's  good  fortune,  in  the  summer  of 
1839,  to  see  this  work,  while  under  the  artist's  hands,  in 
his  small  studio  in  Rome.  He  was  still  engaged  on  the 
plastic  clay,  devoting  to  it  the  daily  labor  of  his  hands, 
and,  it  may  be  said,  the  daily  and  nightly  thoughts  of  his 
mind ;  for  his  soul  was  absorbed  by  it,  as  by  a  poem. 
The  model,  when  completed,  excited  the  most  gratifying 
commendation  from  the  highest  quarters.  An  English 
gentleman,  familiar  with  the  works  of  art  in  all  the  cap- 
itals of  Europe,  wrote  of  it  in  language  which  no  American 
could  employ  without  exposing  himself  to  the  suggestion 
of  an  undue  partiality  to  a  fellow-countryman  warping 
his  better  judgment.  The  Englishman  shall  speak  for 
himself :  '  If  Crawford  is  sustained  in  his  art,'  he  says, 
*  and  keeps  his  health,  he  will  be  the  first  of  modern 
sculptors ;  nay,  an  American  may  rival  Phidias.     He  has 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD.  247 

completed  the  mould  of  his  Orpheus,  which  some  of  the 
best  judges  even  in  the  mould  compare  to  the  Apollo. 
Gibson,  chary  and  cold  in  praise,  spoke  of  it  to  me  as  a 
most  extraordinary  promise  of  eminence  in  the  art.  I 
knew  that  Thorvaldsen  (himself  the  greatest  of  modem 
names,  not  even  excepting  Canova)  has  expressed  the 
same  opinion,  and  esteems  Crawford  as  his  successor  in 
the  severe  classic  style  of  sculpture.  I  send  you  some 
lithograph  engravings,  privately  struck  off,  of  the  Orpheus, 
which  I  brought  from  Rome.  Here  in  London,  at  Mr. 
Rogers',  and  elsewhere,  I  have  shown  the  print,  to  the 
great  admiration  of  all  who  saw  it.  But  Crawford  is  still 
struggling.  The  moneyed  Americans  who  visit  Rome 
follow  names,  and  as  yet  know  not  the  rising  merit  of 
their  countryman.  He  has  bespoken  the  marble  for  the 
statue.  He  has  no  order  for  the  work !  New- York  will 
disgrace  itself  if  fifty  gentlemen  do  not  club  £10  each  to- 
gether, and  send  it  to  your  Consul  at  Rome  to  contract 
for  such  an  exquisite  work,  that  his  native  city  may  have 
such  di  first  work,  and  first  encomage  such  a  self-taught 
man  of  genius.  I  shall  next  week  put  a  paragraph  in 
our  papers  calling  attention  to  the  model.  But  the  print 
speaks  for  itself.  Further,  Crawford  has  the  merit  of 
virtuous  habits,  and  an  honest  independent  spirit.  I 
found  him  just  recovered  from  a  nervous  brain  fever.  It 
is  hard  work  to  go  up  hill ;  but  he  is  up  at  his  work 
now.  Waiting  for  the  Carrara  marble  for  Orpheus, 
he  is  moulding  an  inimitable  model  of  Washington  on  a 
charger — a  most  grand  and  simple  design.  Indeed,  he 
has  formed  his  own  style,  and  highly  classically  stored  a 
mind  of  great  genius.  We  shall  live  to  see  him  the  most 
eminent  artist  of  our  times.  /  only  wish  he  were  an 
Englishman.     How  such  a  man  can  emerge  from  your 


248  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

backwoods  into  the  eternal  city  I  cannot  imagine.  But 
it  will  reflect  eternal  disgrace  on  New-York,  if,  with 
its  opulence,  he  is  not  sustained  in  early  life.  The* 
most  delightful  part  of  his  mind  is  the  utter  absence 
of  conceit — the  independent  but  mature  formation  of  his 
views  of  art — his  just,  without  idol  estimate  of  Michael 
Angelo — his  boldness  of  opinion,  and  withal  his  real  dif- 
fidence and  desire  still  farther  to  advance  his  intellect  and 
powers.  He  is  the  artist  who  and  whose  works  most 
struck  me  in  all  our  journeys  on  the  Continent;  and  I 
write  the  above  as  you  well  know,  who  know  me,  from 
admiration  of  a  struggling  man  of  merit.' 

"  But  the  statue  of  Orpheus  is  not  the  only  work  by 
which  Crawford  has  entitled  himself  to  the  regard  of  the 
friends  of  Art.  He  has  produced  several  bas-reliefs  of 
very  great  merit.  Among  these,  some  from  Anacreon 
are  destined  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  He  has  also 
been  engaged  on  a  large  bas-relief  for  Mr.  Tiffany,  of 
Baltimore,  in  illustration  of  the  words,  '  Lead  us  into 
life  everlasting.'  It  is  understood  that  this  is  intended 
for  a  monument.  Another  work  by  him  is  a  small  figure, 
the  Genius  of  Autumn,  made  for  Mr.  Paine  of  New- 
York  ;  also,  a  small  statue  for  Mr.  Jonathan  Phillips,  of 
Boston,  a  repetition  of  which  has  been  ordered  by  Mr. 
Tiffany  of  Baltimore. 

"The  following  sentences  from  a  letter  written  by 
Crawford  during  the  last  year,  will  show  his  more  recent 
occupations,  and  the  ardor  of  his  soul  in  the  pursuit  of 
excellence  in  his  Art : — '  I  have  commenced  a  small  sta- 
tue of  Youth,  for  Mr.  Hicks,  of  New- York.  The  model 
will  be  completed  in  about  a  month.  It  is  a  boy  of 
seven  or  eight  years,  dancing  in  great  glee,  and  tinkling  a 
pair  of  cymbals,  the  music  of  which  seems  to  amuse  him 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD. 


249 

exceedingly.  The  sentiment  is  joy ousness  throughout. 
It  is  evident  no  thought  of  the  future  troubles  his  young 
mind:  and  he  may  consider  himself  very  fortunate  in 
being  made  of  marble ;  for  thus  his  youth  remains  with- 
out change I  intend  commencing 

seven  bas-reliefs,  which  will  contain  compositions  repre- 
senting the  great  poets  of  ancient  and  modern  times.  1 
have  Homer,  Virgil,  Dante,  Petrarch,  Tasso,  and  Mil- 
ton, and  an  ideal  arrangement  of  Apollo  with  the  horse 
Pegasus.  I  may  possibly  add  Shakspeare,  but  I  think  of 
reserving  hitn  to  place  in  another  series  intended  for  the 
Tragic  Poets.  Soon  as  I  have  completed  these,  you 
shall  have  outline  engravings  of  them.  I  have  composed 
many  other  things,  and  I  regret  that  I  have  not  a  hun- 
dred hands  to  keep  pace  with  the  workings  of  the  mind. 
The  most  important  of  these  will  be,  perhaps,  illustra- 
trations  of  the  whole  of  Ovid.  I  intend  engraving 
these  ;  for  to  model  them  would  require  too  much  time, 
unless  they  were  ordered.  They  will  be  simple  draw- 
ings in  outline,  composed  with  a  sculptural  feeling  in 
such  a  way  that  they  might  be  modelled  in  bas-reliefs 
and  still  preserve  the  harmony  of  composition  so  neces- 
sary in  Art.  I  have  often  thought  that  works  such  as 
these  might  be  ordered  in  plaster,  if  not  in  marble.  The 
expense  would  be  but  one-half,  probably,  and  they 
would  answer  every  purpose  connected  with  the  orna- 
ment of  our  literary  institutions.  Many  persons  think 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  all  works  of  sculpture 
should  be  in  marble.  If  it  is  possible,  so  much  the  bet- 
ter, but  after  all,  casts  give  to  the  instructed  mind  quite 
as  much  pleasure ;  and  the  reputation  of  the  Artist  may 
be  placed  as  well  upon  fine  impressions  of  his  works  in 
gesso,  as  though  they  were  executed  in  a  more  durable 


250  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

material.  Witness  the  '  Triumph  of  Alexander,'  the  great 
work  of  modern  times.  It  was  ordered  to  be  made  in 
plaster  of  Paris  originally.  Besides,  we  have  the  im- 
mortal casts  of  the  antique  throughout  the  world.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  I  should  desire  an  order  for  a  statue 
in  plaster,  nor  for  a  single  bas-relief;  but  an  order  for  a 
series  of  compositions  I  should  consider  a  most  fortunate 
consummation,  and  devoutly  to  be  wished.'  In  another 
part  of  his  letter  Crawford  says  :  '  I  look  to  the  founda- 
tion of  a  pure  School  of  Art  in  our  glorious  country. 
We  have  surpassed  already  the  republics  of  Greece  in 
our  political  institutions,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  attempt  to  approach  their  excellence  in  the 
Fine  Arts,  which,  as  much  as  any  thing  else,  has  secured 
undying  fame  to  Grecian  genius.' 

"  Such  a  spirit  is  worthy  of  our  country.  New- York 
— nay,  America — should  be  proud  of  Thomas  Craw- 
ford, for  he  was  born  in  that  city.  It  is  now  as  many 
as  six  years  that  he  has  been  pursuing  sculpture  with  an 
earnest  attention,  rising  almost  to  rapture,  amidst  the  re- 
mains of  ancient  Rome,  in  the  long  galleries  of  the  Va- 
tican, and  that  modern  continuation  of  the  Vatican,  as 
it  may  be  called,  the  studio  of  Thorvaldsen.  Here  he 
has  formed  that  correct  and  classical  taste,  with  the  free- 
dom of  Canova,  but  without  his  meretricious  style,  which 
manifests  itself  so  exquisitely  in  all  his  productions.  '  He 
left  his  home  in  New-York,'  says  one  who  saw  him 
much,  '  a  very  young  man  ;  and  few  knew  the  immortal 
aspirings  of  the  enthusiast,  save  the  one  to  whom  he 
came  with  every  new  model,  and  by  whose  side  he  sat 
night  after  night,  reading,  drawing,  poring  over  the 
Musee  des  Antiques,  and  other  works  of  Art,  laughing 
at  the  eccentricities  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  forming  tab- 


THOMAS  CRAWFORD.  251 

leaux  in  which  Homer  and  his  heroes,  Phidias  and  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  Guido  and  Raphael,  Salvator  Rosa  and 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Flaxman  and  Thorvaldsen,  were 
strangely  mingled  with  Nymphs  and  Baccanti,  winged 
seraphs  and  apostles.'  A  youth  like  this  was  the  natu- 
ral prelude  to  a  noble  manhood." 

An  interesting  correspondent  of  the  Evening  Post 
thus  speaks  of  Crawford  in  a  letter  from  Rome,  dated 
the  15th  Oct.  1845:— 

"  Here,  in  Rome,  I  have  frequently  seen  Crawford, 
a  native  of  New- York;  after  struggling  against  many 
difficulties  he  has  now  won  a  proud  reputation.  He  is  a 
student,  a  close  and  diligent  student,  and  his  chisel  gives 
promise  of  future  excellence.  Several  of  his  works  are 
already  in  the  United  States,  and  his  name  is  familiar 
among  those  who  take  an  interest  in  the  Fine  Arts.  The 
venerable  Thorwaldsen  occasionally  visits  his  studio,  and 
I  have  heard,  speaks  in  very  kind  terms  of  our  young 
'  countryman's  works.  Crawford's  rising  fame  has  lately 
brought  him  several  orders,  and  he  is  now  in  a  fair  way 
of  overcoming  all  the  obstacles  that  impeded  him  in  his 
earliest  career.  He  has  just  completed  a  very  fine  figure, 
which  he  calls  the  Genius  of  Mirth.  Henry  W.  Hicks, 
Esq.,  of  New- York,  who  was  here  some  time  ago,  pleased 
with  Crawford's  genius,  and  desirous  of  encouraging  him, 
gave  him  an  unconditional  order,  at  a  liberal  price,  for  a 
piece  of  sculpture,  and  the  Artist  has  exhibited  much 
taste  in  the  selection  of  the  subject.  The  Genius  of 
Mirth,  is  truly  a  clever  work — it  is  finished,  and  has  been 
sent  to  Leghorn  for  shipment. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  this  figure — ^you  will 
doubtless  see  it  soon,  then,  judge  yourself,  if  my  esti- 
mate of  Crawford's  merit  is  too  high. 


252  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

"  By  the  way,  as  you  know  Mr.  Hicks,  I  wish  you 
would  whisper  in  his  ear,  to  send  the  Genius  of  Mirth  to 
the  first  exhibition  of  the  Academy — -justice  to  the  sculp- 
tor, not  less  than  the  gratification  of  his  numerous  friends, 
should  persuade  him  to  do  so.  There  is  also,  in  this 
young  artist's  studio,  a  beautiful  model — '  The  Shepherd- 
ess'— ^which  he  is  transferring  to  marble  for  Mr.  Collis, 
formerly  of  New  Orleans :  he  is  at  present  engaged  in 
making  a  copy  of  a  Cupid  for  a  gentleman  of  Baltimore, 
whose  name  I  forget,  the  original  of  which  he  designed, 
and  made  for  Mr.  Phillips  of  Boston.  He  has  also  just 
finished  a  bust  of  Sappho  ;  an  ideal  one — and  a  beautifully 
poetic  one  it  is — for  Charles  Parker,  Esq.,  of  Boston.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  I  should  enter  into  a  critical  exam- 
ination of  these  various  works.  They  will  all  be  in  the 
United  States  by  and  by,  when  you  may,  most  likely, 
have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  some  of  them. 

"  Crawford  is  very  industrious,  and  young  though  he 
be,  has  already  produced  many  excellent  things.  He  is 
now  publishing  an  illustration  of  his  works ;  the  first 
number  lately  appeared,  the  frontispiece  to  which  is  a  bas- 
relievo,  lately  furnished  for  Dr.  Van  Rensselaer  of  your 
city." 

A  writer  of  taste  in  a  Boston  journal,  1 1th  May,  1 844, 
who  seems  perfectly  to  understand  his  subject,  says  that 
Thorvaldsen  said,  "  The  Orpheus  is  the  most  classic 
statue  in  the  studios  of  Rome."  The  writer  thus  con- 
tinues— "  Boston  is  fortunate  to  possess  so  noble  a  speci- 
men of  the  highest  classical  school.  Crawford  is  no 
copyist ;  and  they  who  have  seen  the  story  of  Orpheus 
in  marble  at  Versailles,  can  testify  how  completely  an 
artist  may  fail ;  as  they,  who  study  the  same  story  at  the 
Athenaeum,  may  see  how  perfectly  our  countryman  has 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD.  263 

succeeded.  At  the  exhibition  there  are  other  works 
worthy  of  particular  notice  ;  but,  I  would,  in  closing  these 
hasty  descriptions,  invite  the  true  patrons  of  genius  and 
moral  worth  to  send  their  words  of  encouragement  to 
one  of  the  first  artists  of  the  age,  and  to  a  young  man, 
who  for  eight  years  has  been  struggling  with  poverty. 
With  a  self-devotion  and  courage  which  strike  dead  every 
opposing  circumstance,  Crawford  has  gone  on  improving 
his  head,  heart  and  hand,  until  he  ranks  in  Rome  second 
only  to  his  great  teacher  Thorvaldsen.  He  has  filled 
his  studio  with  models  from  his  inventive  brain  ;  and  they 
who  want  chaste  and  beautiful  ornaments  for  their  par- 
lors, have  only  to  send  him  an  order,  with  a  description 
of  the  space  to  be  occupied  and  the  price  to  be  paid.  I 
have  not  the  slightest  personal  interest  to  serve  in  recom- 
mending Crawford  ;  but,  as  I  have  sat  hour  after  hour  to 
see  him  shape  the  clay  to  the  type  that  was  resting  in  his 
mind,  I  feel  a  strong  desire  that  such  extraordinary  ge- 
nius and  excellence  of  character  should  find  their  reward. 

"  I  proposed  to  him  to  give  me  a  statue  of  Dr.  C ban- 
ning. The  next  morning  he  presented  me  an  impres- 
sive figure  representing  the  preacher  in  his  robes,  the  left 
hand  pointing  to  a  text  in  an  open  Bible,  while  the  right 
was  raised  to  enforce  the  exposition  of  a  truth.  The 
action  and  movement  of  the  statue  were  in  perfect  ac- 
cordance with  Dr.  Channing's  peculiar  manner,  and  I 
deeply  regret  that  this  statue  has  not  been  ordered. 
The  warrior,  who  has  given  all  his  time  and  mind  to  de- 
stroy mankind,  lives  for  ever  in  marble ,  while  the  profound 
Christian  sage,  who  spake  as  one  having  authority  in  the 
realms  of  thought,  and  who  spent  his  days  and  nights  in 
the  service  of  truth  and  philanthropy,  is  allowed  to  go  to 
his  grave  without  any  proper  notice  of  his  greatness 


254  THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 

Besides  the  works  of  Crawford  already  mentioned  in  the 
public  prints,  he  has  moulded  half-sized  figures  of  most  of 
our  patriot  fathers,  and  illustrations  of  our  national  his- 
tory. He  has  in  clay  a  most  exquisite  little  group  re- 
presenting an  angel  teaching  two  children  to  pray.  His 
busts  of  '  Sappho,'  '  Tragedy,'  and  a  '  Vestal,'  are  of 
remarkable  beauty.  His  '  Shepherdess'  represents  a 
girl  of  seventeen  carrying  home  on  her  shoulders  a  little 
lamb,  while  by  her  right  hand  she  is  dragging  along  a 
wolf  which  has  her  arrow  through  his  heart.  The  inno- 
cence of  the  lamb,  and  the  triumphant  joy  of  the  Shep- 
herdess at  her  rescue  of  the  flock,  are  beautifully  con- 
trasted with  the  ferocity  of  the  wild  beast.  Crawford 
is  now  busied  on  his  '  Adam  and  Eve,'  a  group  in  heroic 
size  representing  the  bitter  agony  of  our  first  parents  at 
the  moment  the  gates  of  paradise  have  been  closed  on 
them  forever.  The  genius  of  the  artist  has  risen  to  the 
terrible  sublimity  of  his  subject,  and  1  shall  wait  with 
impatience  for  a  sight  of  this  great  work.  I  hope  the  time 
is  not  far  distant  when  an  effort  will  be  made  for  an  Amer- 
ican School  of  Art — and  who  can  doubt  of  its  success 
when  we  have  produced  such  painters  as  Copely,  Allston 
and  Stuart — and  such  sculptors  as  Crawford,  Powers 
and  Greenough?  C.  B." 

The  following  description  of  Crawford's  Vesta  ap- 
peared in  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser  and  Patriot,  over 
the  signature  of  F.  L. : — 

"  At  No.  20  Long  Wharf,  up  stairs,  winding  the  way 
between  cotton  bales  and  other  goods,  through  a  door 
with  dingy,  thickly-dusty  panes,  in  an  unused,  unswept 
and  cobwebbed  counting-house — there  stands,  in  the 
corner,  a  Bust  covered  with  a  heavy  brown  cloth.  The 
cloth  was  removed,  and  before  us  stood  one  of  the  purest 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD.  256 

and  chastest,  yet  most  original  works  of  modern  Art 
— the  Vesta  of  Crawford — a  work  full  of  repose,  com- 
plete in  itself,  and  of  noble  thought  and  conception. 
Like  Thorvaldsen's  Night,  it  reminds  us  of  a  brief  poem 
full  of  the  deepest  feeling,  in  unpretending  language,  and 
thoroughly  finished  within  itself.  I  have  but  lately  re- 
turned from  a  trip  through  Europe,  and  all  the  master- 
works,  ancient  and  modern,  are  vivid  in  my  memory,  yet 
the  image  of  this  bust  falls  with  freshness  and  delight 
upon  my  mind,  which  I  know  to  be,  in  this  case,  wholly 
impartial.  It  seems  to  me,  that  the  mantle  of  the  great 
Thorvaldsen  has  fallen  upon  Crawford.  I  do  not  know 
a  single  work  of  the  latter  which  is  not  like  the  Shep- 
herd Boy  of  the  former,  or  all  he  gave  us  from  his  abun- 
dant genius,  distinguished  by  originality,  as  well  as  an 
entire  absence  of  extravagance  or  coquetry,  which  mars 
the  effect  of  many  works  of  Canova's  chisel. 

"  In  this  bust  of  a  Vesta,  it  appeared  to  me  that  the 
whole  lower  part  of  the  face  was  truly  original — without 
any  reminiscence.  I  remember  nothing  of  the  kind  in 
antiquity.  How  unlike  any  thing  in  antiquity  ;  '  yet  how 
antique  !'  The  head  is  that  of  a  girl  of  fifteen,  yet  in 
advance  of  her  age,  as  Raphael's  babes  are  babes  in- 
deed, but  far  beyond  mere  infancy.  The  Vesta  of 
Crawford  has  the  last  remains  of  that  fulness  of  cheek 
nearest  the  mouth,  which  we  find  in  the  highest  degree 
in  handsome  infants,  while  her  mouth  is  of  the  greatest 
sweetness,  and  of  that  peculiar  expression  which  the 
mouths  of  young  persons  assume  when  they  are  in  ear- 
nest meditation.  The  mouth,  on  the  point  of  being 
opened,  looks  as  if  the  ready  word  played  already  on  the 
lips.  Her  down-bent  eyes,  her  slightly  inclined  and  ex- 
quisitely formed  head — all,  all  is  beautiful,  and  makes  us 


256 


THOMAS  CRAWFORD. 


wish  all  possible  blessing  upon  him  who  conceived  Or- 
pheus and  this  Vesta,  and  has  executed  them  with  deli- 
cacy, chaste  self-control,  genius  and  refinement.  Ame- 
rica ought  to  be  proud  of  her  Crawford." 

The  following  list  of  those  works  of  Crawford,  taken 
from  sculpture  and  modern  subjects,  has  been  furnished 
me  by  a  friend  : — 

Adam  and  Eve.  A  group  illustrative  of  their  expulsion  from 
the  garden  of  Eden.  In  this  work  the  object  of  the  artist  has  been 
to  give  the  noblest  expression  of  grief;  Eve,  overcome  by  shame  and 
sorrow,  clings  for  support  to  the  form  of  Adam,  whose  arms  are 
thrown  upwards  in  the  act  of  supplication,  while  his  clasped  hands 
are  indicative  of  the  mental  suffering  that  almost  overpowers  his 
nature.  His  face  is  raised  upwards,  and  shows  a  combined  expres- 
sion of  grief  and  entreaty,  as  if  the  severity  of  the  sentence  against 
his  disobedience  is  insupportable.  All  is  pervaded  by  the  solemnity 
that  gives  to  grief  its  most  touching  form.  The  size  is  what  is  called 
the  Hevie  ;  in  other  words,  about  nine  and  a  half  feet  for  the  stature 
of  Adam.  Eve  is,  of  course,  in  this  proportion.  Of  this  groupe  a 
gentleman,  who  saw  it  in  Rome  in  the  winter  of  1844,  wrote — "  It  is 
really  conceived  of  Poetry  and  born  of  Sculpture,  and  shows  the 
imagination  of  the  one  and  the  power  of  the  other  more  than  the 
Orpheus,  or  any  other  of  his  works." 

A  Family,  suffering  under  the  reign  of  fiery  serpents ;  there  are 
five  figures  in  this  work. 

A  Mother,  attempting  to  save  herself  and  child  from  the  univer- 
sal deluge  ;  a  group. 

David,  as  the  conqueror  of  Goliah  ;  a  statue. 

David  before  Saul;  a  bas  relief.  *' 

The  Shepherds  and  Wise  Men,  presenting  their  offerings  to*  the 
infant  Jesus  ;  a  bas  relief,  containing  twenty-four  figures.  An  etch- 
ing  of  this  has  been  made. 

Christ,  disputing  with  the  Doctors  ;  a  bas  relief,  containing  twelve 
figures.  ■■•..• 

CAn'sf,  restoring  sight  to  the  blipd;  a  bas  relief. 

Christ,  discoursiBg  with  the  Woman  of  Samaria  at  the  well;  a 
bas  relief. 


THOMAS   CRAWFORD. 


2^ 


Christ,  restoring  life  to  the  daughter  of  Jairus ;  a  group  of  four 
figures. 

Christ,  blessing  little  children  ;  a  has  relief,  containing  fourteen 
figures. 

Christ,  ascending  from  the  tomb;  a  has  relief  of  five  figures. 

Prayer ;  a  statue. 

An  Angel,  teaching  infancy  to  pray;  a  group  of  three  figures. 

"  Lead  its  into  Life  Everlasting  ;"  a  has  relief  of  seven  figures. 

The  Landing  of  Columbus  ;  a  group  of  five  figures. 

Three  Statues  of  Washingt-on,  differing  from  each  other  in  senti- 
ment and  costume  ;  one  of  them  being  a  representation  of  Washing. 
ton  in  the  costume  he  wore.  Of  one  of  these  there  is  a  beautiful 
engraving. 

Two  designs  for  Washington  Monuments,  each  surmounted  by 
equestrian  statues.  One  of  these  designs  has  four  bas  reliefs.  The 
subjects  are,  Washington  receiving  his  commission  ;  the  surrender 
of  Lord  Cornwallis  ;  Washington  writing  his  Farewell  Address ; 
Washington  again  upon  his  farm  at  Mount  Vernon.  Accompanying 
this  design  are  statues  of  History,  Peace,  Heroic  Poetry,  Victory, 
Abundance,  and  Navigation. 

A  design  for  an  Equestrian  Statue  of  Washington,  modelled  in 
Boston  during  the  past  winter.  These  three  equestrian  designs  dif- 
fer from  each  other. 

Besides  these,  Mr.  Crawford  has  made  sketches  for  statues  of 
Franklin,  Jefferson,  Channing,  Washington  Allston  and  Henry  Clay. 

Since  1 844  Crawford  has  designed  some  noble  works 
which  are  not  embraced  in  this  enumeration.  His  fame 
has  long  been  established,  and  I  have  heard  some  expe- 
rienced connoisseurs  remark  they  thought  nothing  was 
hazarded  in  saying  that  Crawford  had  in  his  Orpheus, 
and  his  "Shepherds  and  the  Wise  Men,"  surpassed 
nearly  all  the  Sculptors  of  modern  times.  The  etching 
of  the  Shepherds  seemed  to  me  to  be  equal  to  almost  aii\ 
similar  bas  relief  of  Thorvaldsen. 


17 


xi^^-. 


^ 


■*'^5^fe. 


» 


€l)e  Jpuritaus  a\\b  X\)t\x  JprinnpUflf. 

BY  REV.  EDWIN  HALL. 

PUBLISHED  BY  BAKER  St.  SCRIBNER,  145  NASSIU  STREET. 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

From  the  New  York  Observer. 
The  Puritans  and  their  Principles.     By  Edwin 

HalL     New  York:  Baker &Scribner.     1846. 

Mr.  Hall  is  the  able  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Church,  in  Norwalk,  Ct.  He  writes  with  vigor,  and  in 
the  midst  of  all  his  disquisitions,  does  not  fail  to  sustain 
the  interest  of  the  reader.  The  work  before  us  is  the 
fruit  of  much  research  and  thought,  and  will  stand,  in 
*  oar  opinion,  as  a  noble  defence  of  the  character  and  prin- 
ciples of  men  whose  monument  is  civil  and  religious 
liberty  in  the  earth. 

This  volume  is  richly  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  library 
of  every  college,  and  of  every  man  who  wishes  to  under- 
stand  the  true  greatness  of  the  Puritans.  We  presume 
that  it  will  be  very  generally  sought  after  and  extensively 
read. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Fxening  Express. 
They  set  forth  the  causes  which  brought  the  Pilgrims 
lo  these  shores,  their  principles,  and  vindicate  them  from 
the  aspersions  which  have  been  cast  upon  them.  The 
subject  is  one  of  the  greatest  interest  to  any  person  who 
has  any  desire  to  know  the  history  of  his  own  country, 
and  to  be  acquainted  with  the  principles  and  sufferings 
of  the  most  remarkable  men  that  ever  reached  this  con- 
tinent 


m 


Y  CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS. 

From  the  Morning  News. 

Works  op  Charlotte  Elizabeth. — Mrs.  Charlotte  Eli» 
abeth  Tonna  is  one  of  the  most  gifled,  popular,  and  truly  iiv- 
structive  writers  of  the  present  day.    In  clearness  of  thoughi* 
JSn,  variety  of  topics,  richness  of  imagery,  and  elegance  of  expre»- 

sion,  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say,  that  she  is  the  rival  of  Har»- 
nah  More,  or  to  predict  that  her  works  will  be  as  extensively 
and  profitably  read,  as  those  of  the  most  delightful  female  write* 
of  the  last  generation.  All  her  writings  are  pervaded  by  just 
Qess  and  purity  of  sentiment,  and  the  highest  reverence  for  mo- 
raJity  and  religion ;  and  may  safely  be  commended  as  of  the 
blithest  interest  and  Talue  to  every  family  in  the  land. 

From  the  Religious  Spectator 

If  Charlotte  Elizabeth  were  not  one  of  the  most  attractive 
•uid  useful  writers  of  the  age,  we  might  perhaps  be  ready  to 
4ay  that  she  was  in  danger  of  surfeiting  the  public  appetite,  by 
her  numerous  productions ;  but  as  it  is,  we  are  constrained  to 
say  the  oflener  she  shows  herself  as  an  author  the  better.  Her 
works  never  tire ;  and  we  are  never  even  in  doubt  in  respect  to 
their  useful  tendency. 

From  the  Albany  Argus. 

Charlotte  Elizabeth's  works  have  become  so  universally 
Known,  and  are  so  highly  and  deservedly  appreciated  in  this 
country,  that  it  has  become  almost  superfluous  to  mention  them. 
We  doubt  exceedingly  whether  there  has  been  any  female  wri- 
ter since  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  whose  works  are  likely  to  be  so 
extensively  and  so  profitably  read  as  hers.  She  thinks  deeply 
and  accurately,  is  a  great  analysist  of  the  human  heart,  and 
withal  clothes  her  thoughts  in  most  appropriate  and  eloquent 
language. 

From  the  Journal  of  Commerce. 

These  productions  constitute  a  bright  relief  to  the  bad  and 


CATALOGUE   OF  BOOKS.  ,  9 

•sotnjpting  literature  in  which  our  age  is  so  prolific,  flill  of  prac- 
tical instruction,  illustrative  of  the  beauty  of  Protestant  Chria- 
tianity,  and  not  the  less  abounding  in  entertaining  description 
and  narrative. 

CHAELOTTE   ELIZABETH'S   WORKS. 


Personal  Recollections,  1  vol. 

Osrlc,  a  Missionary  Tale, 

38 

12mo., 

50 

The  Convent  Bell,  a  Tale, 

38 

Helen  Fleetwood, 

50 

Glimpses  of  the  Past,  or  the  Mu- 

Jndah's Lion, 

50 

seum, 

38 

Jndsa  Capta, 

50 

Philip  and  his  Garden, 

38 

The  Siege  of  Derry, 

50 

The  Flower  of  Innocence, 

38 

Letters  from  Ireland, 

50 

The  Simple  Flower, 

38 

The  Rockite, 

50 

Alice  Benden,  and  other  Tales, 

38 

Floral  Biography, 

60 

Female  Martyrs, 

38 

PriQcipallties  and  Powers, 

SO 

Tales  and  Illustrations, 

38 

English  Martyrs, 

50 

Dressmakers  and  Milliners, 

25 

rhe  Wrongs  of  Women, 

50 

The  Forsaken  Home, 

S5 

The  Church  Visible  in  all  Ages, 

The  Little  Pin-Headers, 

S5 

18mo., 

50 

The  Lace  Runners, 

85 

Passing  Thoughts, 

38 

Letter  Writing, 

35 

Falsehood  and  Truth, 

38 

Back-Biting, 

9S 

Conformity, 

38 

Promising  and  Performing, 

ss 

Izram,  a  Mexican  Tale, 

38 

THE  PEEP  OP  DAY,  or  a  series  of  the  earliest  reli- 
gious Instruction,  the  Infant  Mind  is  capable  of  re- 
ceiving, with  verses  illustrative  of  the  subjects,  1  vol. 
18mo.  vrith  engravings,  $0  50 

LINE  UPON  LINE,  by  the  author  of  "Peep  of  Day," 
a  lecond  series,  fiO 

PRECEPT  UPON  PRECEPT,  by  the  author  of  "Peep 
of  Day,"  etc.,  a  third  series,  60 


4  CATALOGUE    OF   BOOKS. 

This  is  probably  the  best  and  most  popular  series  of  Juvenile 
Books  ever  published.  The  publishers  refer  with  the  most  en- 
tire confidence  to  all  parents  and  teachers  who  have  introduced 
these  books  into  their  families  or  schools,  who  will  testify  as  to 
the  useful  and  correct  religious  instruction  which  they  con- 
tain. 


D'AUBIGNE'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  GREAT  RE- 
FORMATION, abridged  by  the  Rev.  Edward  Dal- 
ton,  1  vol.  18mo.  447  pages.    Price,  $0  50 

Probably  no  book  of  modern  date  has  obtained  such  a  wide- 
spread popularity,  and  been  so  extensively  read  as  D'Aubigne's 
History  of  the  Great  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth  century,  in 
Grermany,  Switzerland,  &c.  Engrossing  and  enduring  as  must 
be  the  interest  connected  with  the  details  of  the  historical  inci- 
dent of  the  Great  Reformation,  the  author  of  this  work  has 
invested  them  with  all  the  charm  and  fascination  of  ro- 
mance. 

The  Abridgment  retains  most  of  the  attractions  of  the  larger 
work,  and  brings  it  within  the  means,  as  to  time  and  expense, 
of  a  still  larger  body  of  readers.  Of  the  faithfulness  with  which 
this  abridgment  has  been  made,  the  following  testimonials 
from  the  New  York  Observer  of  Oct.  21,  is  abundant  and  sat- 
isfactory evidence.  It  is  from  the  pen  of  a  distinguished  cler- 
gyman of  New  York,  whose  opinions  on  such  subjects  are  en- 
titled to  universal  confidence. 

"  I  have  read  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dalton's  Abridgment  of  D'Au- 
bigne's History,  as  reprinted  by  Baker  &  Scribner,  and  have 
fully  compared  it  with  Mr.  Carter's  edition  of  the  original  work. 
I  am  free  to  say  that  I  think  the  abridgment  is  made  with  great 
fidelity  and  sound  judgment.  It  consists  almost  wholly  of  the 
author's  own  words,  and  embraces  those  parts  which  are  of  the 
most  prominent  interest.  Doubtless  those  who  can  command 
the  time  will  prefer  to  read  the  original  work ;  but  those  wh* 


CATALOGUE   OF    BOOKS.  O 

**  Idi  to  have  the  substance  of  the  work  in  less  compass,  will 
ftere  find  it  faithfully  condensed  by  one  who  entered  into  the 
true  spirit  of  D'Aubigne.  Both  editions,  I  believe  calculated  to 
be  eminently  useful,  and  I  wish  to  both  the  widest  circular 
tion. 

This  work  is  printed  on  good  type,  contains  447  pages,  and 
IB  sold  at  the  exceedingly  low  price  of  50  cents." 

From  the  American  Protestant. 
D'AUBIGNE'S  HISTORY  OP  THE  REFORMATION.— 

Cheap  edition.    Abridged  by  the  Rev,  Edward  Dalton. 

Second  edition. 

This  edition  of  D'Aubignd,  abridged  by  a  skilful  hand,  has 
received  the  commendations  of  the  press,  and  of  men  of  talent, 
for  the  rare  merit  it  presents  in  the  present  form.  It  is  admi- 
rably adapted  for  Sunday  School  and  Common  School  Libra- 
ries, and  for  the  family.  None  of  the  unportant  facts  of  the 
original  history  are  omitted,  or  even  mutilated ;  while  all  that 
IS  extraneous  and  common-place,  has  been  dropped.  It  is  use- 
less to  talk  about  the  advantage  a  child  will  reap  from  the  read- 
ing of  the  full  edition ;  the  same  argument  should  hold  good 
for  all  purposes,  and  we  would  have  to  banish  books  wholly 
from  our  School  Libraries — for,  of  the  historical  portion  of 
those  Libraries,  hardly  a  single  volume  can  be  found,  that  is 
not  an  abridgment  of  a  more  voluminous  work.  Children 
must  have  the  facts,  and  the  stirring  interest  of  unbroken  naiw 
rative ;  their  age,  and  their  unripe  minds,  imperatively  demand 
them,  and  we  might  as  well  forbid  them  to  study  Astronomy 
except  through  the  barren  formulas  of  La  Place,  as  to  forbid 
them  to  read  history  except  in  the  philosophic  voluminousness 
of  original  productions. 


THE    CHURCH   IN  THE  WILDERNESS,  and  other 
Fragraenta  from  the  study  of  a  Pastor,  by  Gardiner  Spring, 


■« 


O  CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS. 

DJD.,  Pastor  of  the  Brick  Presbyterian  Church,  in  the  ct^ 
of  New  York. 

The  following  notice  of  Spring's  Fragments  is  extracted  from 
the  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  first  piece  entitled  the  "  Church  in  the  Wilderness,"  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  sketches  in  our  language.  It  is  in 
every  respect  a  finished  production — a  picture  complete  in  all 
its  parts,  that  for  a  time  captivates  the  affections,  enchains  the 
powers  of  the  mind,  and  fills  the  soul  with  the  most  exalted 
conceptions.  The  Church  is  represented,  under  the  various 
circumstances  of  her  earthly  allotment,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
her  Beloved,  and  deriving  all  her  strength  from  this  unfailing 
source.  The  chastened  but  glowing  fancy,  elegance  of  diction, 
and  purity  of  thought,  conspire  to  give  beauty  to  the  image, 
and  make  us  dwell  upon  it  with  delight. 

The  other  pieces  in  the  collection  are  scarcely  of  infenor 
merit.  "  The  Inquiring  Meeting "  portrays  with  great  vivid- 
ness some  of  the  phases  which  the  human  heart  exhibits,  when 
under  the  influence  of  religious  excitement.  The  "  Letter  to 
a  Young  Clergyman  "  abounds  in  instructions  of  inestimable 
value.  It  may  perhaps  be  doubted  whether  the  author  attaches 
sufficient  importfince  to  pastoral  visitation.  "  The  Panorama  " 
is  an  affecting  delineation  of  the  employment  of  men  as  they 
usually  appear  on  the  stage  of  active  Ufe.  "  The  Useful  Chris- 
tian" contains  sound  practical  suggestions  for  informing  the 
mind,  regulating  the  heart,  and  inspiring  energy  of  action. 


MEMOIRS  OP  MRS.  SARAH  LOUISA  TAYLOR, 
by  Rev.  Lot  Jones,  A.M.    Fifth  edition,  l8mo.,        $0  50 

From  the  Christian  Minror. 

MEMOIR  OP  MRS.   SARAH  LOUISA  TAYLOR:  or  an 
Illustration  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  awaken* 


* 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS.  7 

ing,    renewing,    and    sanctifying    the    heart.      By    Lcn 
Jones,  A.M. 

Memoirs  of  individuals  have  become  so  common,  that  noi  a 
few  may  be  ready  to  ask,  Why  publish  another  *?  We  have  no 
fears  that  the  above  question  will  be  asked  by  any  one  afte- 
reading  this  volume.  If  he  does  not  feel  "  reproved,  correcteil, 
or  instructed  in  righteousness,"  it  will  be  because  he  has  made 
pre-eminent  attainments  in  scriptural  knowledge,  and  holy, 
useful  living ;  or  else  because  his  conscience  has  lost  its  su9> 
ceptibility.  In  Mrs.  Taylor  religion  appears  with  dignity  ae 
well  as  grace,  in  power  as  well  as  beauty.  Hers  was  the  faitb 
which  "  works  by  love,  purifies  the  heart,  and  overcomes  the 
world."  Its  fruits  were  choice  and  abundant.  Nor  were  her 
virtues  cancelled,  or  their  influence  more  than  destroyed  by 
gross  defects  and  blemishes.  She  had  uncommon  symmetrf 
and  harmony  of  character.  With  a  uniform  and  controlling 
desire  to  do  good,  she  never  lacked  the  means  and  opportu- 
nity; and  did  much,  in  the  best  and  highest  sense  of  the  ex- 
pres^on.  She  won  not  n  few  to  righteousness.  Her  religion 
was  a  reugion  of  diligence  and  energy,  rendering  her  "  stead> 
last,  immovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ,•* 
and  her  labor  was  "  not  in  vain." 

We  see  in  Mrs.  Taylor  the  same  religion,  in  its  essential  ele> 
ments,  and  in  its  more  important  developments,  which  glowod 
in  and  beamed  forth  from  the  "great  cloud  of  witnesses;" — the 
same  faith,  the  same  humility,  the  same  dependence  on  atoning 
blood,  the  same  susceptibility  to  the  constraining  influence  of 
Christ's  love :  "  We  thus  judge,  that  if  Christ  died  for  all,  then 
all  were  dead;  and  that  he  died  for  all  that  they  who  live 
should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  him  who 
died  for  them."  We  see  deep  religious  experience,  but  no  ex- 
travagance— strong  feelings,  but  no  fanaticism — absorbing  d^ 
votion,  but  no  cant — firmness  of  principle,  but  no  party  bigotiy. 
We  have  here,  not  only  holiness  in  its  principle,  but  the  beantif 
of  holiness  adorning  and  perfecting  the  character. 


8  CETALOGUE   OF   BOOKS. 

Mr.  Jones  was  greatly  favored  in  the  subject  of  Ms  narra- 
tive; and  he  has  wrought  up  his  materials  with  great  skill  and 
judgment.  Nothing  has  been  inserted,  which  would  have 
been  better  omitted  ;  and  nothing  appears  to  be  wanting,  which 
Was  necessary  to  a  just  appreciation  of  her  character. 

We  unhesitatingly  commend  this  Memoir  to  all  females,  in 
all  ranks  of  society.  The  most  refined  and  best  educated  will 
rise  from  its  perusal,  improved  in  literary  taste,  intellectual  ex- 
pansion, and  correct  thinking ;  and  the  less  iavored  will  learn 
from  it  what  it  is  in  their  power  to  become  by  diligence,  by 
prayer,  by  studying  the  Scriptures,  by  a  whole-hearted  devo- 
tedness  to  the  duties  which  they  owe  to  God  and  their  fellow- 
men. 

From  the  Boston  Recorder. 

MEMOIR  OF  MRS.  SARAH  LOUISA  TAYLOR :  or  an 

Illustration  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  awakening, 
renewing,  and  sanctifying  the  heart.    By  Lot  Jones,  A.M 

It  is  not  possible  to  do  justice  to  this  captivating  and  instretc- 
tive  volume  within  the  compass  of  the  few  lines  to  which  our 
notice  must  be  confined.  And  perhaps  it  is  best  to  desist  alto- 
gether from  an  attempt  to  convey  a  correct  impression  of  it  to 
our  readers ;  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  our  own  emotions  on 
the  perusal  of  it  are  too  strong  to  permit  the  exercise  of  the 
most  cool  and  deliberate  judgment  as  to  its  intrinsic  merits- 
To  follow  a  lovely  youth  through  the  scenes  of  childhood  antl 
ripening  years ;  to  mark  the  various  traits  of  intellectual  and 
moral  character,  as  they  are  developed  in  the  relations  of  the 
child,  the  sister,  the  friend,  the  wife,  the  mother,  the  teacher 
and  the  disciple  of  Jesus:  and  then  to  group  the  whole,  and 
contemplate  the  triumphs  of  faith  over  natural  affection,  and 
the  heart's  corruptions,  and  the  power  of  death  itself;  cannot 
fidl  to  excite  very  strong  emotion  in  any  bosom  not  petrified, 
even  though  the  execution  of  the  work  were  marked  witJa 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS.  9 

many  imperfections.  Bat  Mr.  Jones  iias  not  failed  in  the  ful- 
filment of  the  task  he  has  assumed.  The  simplicity  and  clear- 
ness of  his  delineations;  the  richness  and  fulness  of  evangeli- 
cal sentiment  diffused  through  the  whole,  and  arising  naturally 
from  his  subject,  the  dignified  tenderness  of  style,  and  the  ac- 
curate discrimination  made  between  spurious  and  genuine  reli- 
gion in  his  incidental  remarks,  show  him  to  be  a  workman  that 
needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,  and  leave  an  impress  on  the  vol- 
ume that  will  render  it  very  precious  to  every  evangelical  reader. 
Any  Christian  who  desires  above  all  things  to  grow  in  grace, 
to  learn  the  nature  of  the  Christian  conflict,  and  to  use  success- 
fully the  weapons  that  shall  give  him  the  victory  over  his  spirit- 
ual enemies ;  or,  in  one  word,  to  learn  "  the  mind  of  the  Spirit " 
on  these  points,  will  do  well  to  study  this  volume. 

Prom  the  Episcopal  Sunday  School  Visitw. 

Sometimes  the  usefulness  of  religious  biography  is  lessened 
by  a  redundancy  of  ornament  in  the  style,  by  too  many  digres- 
sions, which  are  continually  breaking  into  the  interest  which 
the  reader  feels  in  the  narrative,  and  driving  away  the  profita- 
ble reflections  which  it  suggests  to  the  mind. 

It  is  very  seldom  that  we  meet  with  a  book  so  entirely  free 
from  blemishes  of  this  kind,  as  the  one  before  us.  It  is  the 
simple  portrait  of  an  amiable,  enlightened,  and  devotedly  pious 
Christian,  drawn  by  a  most  judicious  and  faithful  hand. 

The  young  Christian  who  is  just  commencing  his  course, 
and  whose  temptations  and  trials  are  sometimes  leading  him  to 
despondency,  will  read  this  book  with  thankfulness ;  and 
those  who  are  yet  strangers  to  vital  religion  may  be  induced, 
from  this  lovely  instance  of  its  powerful  effects  in  sustaining 
the  soul,  under  the  heaviest  afQictions  of  life,  and  in  the  hour 
of  sickness  and  death,  to  seek  for  themselves  an  interest  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Mrs.  Taylor  evidently  possessed  a  fine  and  cultivated  mind. 
Of  this  the  beautiful  fragments  of  poetry  which  are  given  in 


10  CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS. 

the  course  of  the  book,  and  the  extracts  from  her  correspond- 
ence, are  evidence.  Had  those  talents  been  cultivated  for  the 
world  and  its  approbation,  she  might,  perhaps,  have  attained 
ell  that  this  world  can  give — fame — applause — and  celebrity. 
But  what  would  they  avail  her  now  1  She  has  chosen  the 
better  part,  which  cannot  be  taken  from  her. 

It  would  be  injustice  to  the  publishers  not  to  notice  the  beau- 
tiful manner  in  which  the  work  has  been  executed.  The  pa- 
per and  type  are  excellent,  and  the  engravings  good :  but  still 
the  matter  of  the  book  is  its  main  recommendation. 

From  the  Episcopal  Recorder. 

This  is  a  new  work  just  issued  from  the  press,  and  well 
worthy  the  attention  of  Christians.  It  describes,  mainly  from 
her  own  writings,  the  character  of  a  Christian,  whose  experi- 
ence of  the  power  of  sin  and  of  the  power  of  grace,  was 
deeper  than  is  usual,  and  whose  example  of  usefulness  to 
others  gives  beautiful  evidence  of  the  reality  of  her  own  prin- 
ciples of  character.  We  have  been  much  interested  in  looking 
over  this  volume,  and  rejoice  in  recommending  it  to  our  read- 
ers. They  will  find  it  an  uncommonly  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive biography,  worthy  of  its  excellent  author,  and  adapted  to 
be  eminently  useful  to  themselves. 

From  the  Christian  Intelligencer. 

This  is  a  well-written  biography  of  an  amiable  and  devoted 
Christian,  who  pleasantly  and  beautifully  exhibited  the  Chris- 
tian character  in  the  different  relations  of  life  and  in  her  early 
death.  The  reader  will  be  pleased  with  the  spirit  and  senti- 
ments of  her  early  correspondence  introduced  and  scattered 
throughout  the  volume.  It  is  calculated  to  be  useful  and  edi- 
fying, and  we  freely  recommend  it  to  our  readers.  It  is  pub- 
lished in  a  beautiful  style. 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS.  11 

From  the  Christian  Watchman. 

The  interesting  subject  of  this  memoir  was  bom  at  East 
Haddam,  Conn.,  January  18,  1809,  and  died  August  2,  1836, 
Books  of  this  description  are  sure  to  obtain  readers,  and  there- 
fore we  sincerely  wish  they  always  combined  as  much  solid 
instruction  with  affecting  and  interesting  narrative,  as  we  find 
in  this  volume.  "  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise."  Every  en- 
deavor, therefore,  to  secure  so  important  an  object,  which  is  not 
at  variance  with  the  principles  and  the  spirit  of  revelation,  is 
wise  also.  As  the  author  fervently  prays,  so  we  sincerely  hope 
this  work  "  may  subserve  the  interests  of  our  holy  religion, 
and  be  the  means  of  leading  many  to  the  fountain  of  eternal 
life." 

It  is  a  lamentable  fact,  but  one  we  suppose  no  one  will  ven- 
ture to  deny,  that  there  are  persons  who,  though  they  cannot 
be  prevailed  upon  to  read  a  few  pages  of  a  book  of  this  kind, 
would  need  no  persuasion  to  sit  down  and  peruse  any  of  Bul- 
wer's  novels,  from  the  preface  to  the  finis,  without  suflering 
their  attention  to  be  interrupted.  A  person  can  hardly  read 
this  volume  without  feeling  that,  for  the  time  at  least,  he  is  a 
wiser  and  a  better  man.  The  author  has  produced  a  bof>k 
alike  creditable  to  the  powers  of  his  mind  and  to  the  devotional 
feelings  of  his  heart ;  and  which,  in  our  opinion,  justly  en- 
titles him  to  the  thanks  of  the  religious  public,  among  whom 
we  sincerely  hope  it  will  obtain  an  extensive  circulation  and 
an  attentive  perusal. 

ftom  the  New  York  Evangelist. 

In  the  memoir  of  Mrs.  Taylor,  the  reader  will  see  chiefly 
•*  an  illustration  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  awakening, 
renewing,  and  sanctifying  the  heart."  He  will  see  an  hum- 
ble female,  born  in  Connecticut,  and  reared  under  the  genial 
influence  of  that  blessed  atmosphere  so  prevalent  in  the  land 
of  the  Pilgrims,  becoming  first  a  teacher  of  youth  in  her  native 
■tate,  then  in  New  York  city.    With  a  mind  well  cultivated 


12  CATALOGUE    OF   BOOKS. 

and  of  a  respectable  order  of  talent,  with  a  heart  formed  for 
friendship,  and  keenly  alive  to  the  purest  and  tenderest  sensi- 
bilities ;  she  was  such  a  one  as  almost  any  one  would  wish 
their  daughters  to  be.  Her  piety  was  of  a  high  order  even 
from  the  first,  and  no  wonder ;  she  had  been  an  object  of  the 
prayers  and  exhortations  of  Harlan  Page.  The  closing  scenes 
exhibit,  in  no  small  degree,  the  triumphs  of  Christian  faith. 
The  biographer  has  done  his  work  well,  interweaving,  page  by 
page,  in  an  easy,  natural  manner,  delightful  lessons  from  real  life. 
The  book  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  printer's  art,  and 
shows  also,  in  the  portrait  prefixed  and  the  vignette  title-page, 
the  engraver's  skill.  The  book  wiU  be  read,  and  seldom,  we 
hope,  without  profit. 

From  the  Christian  Advocate  and  Jonrnal. 

This  memoir  is  an  illustration  of  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  awakening,  renewing,  and  sanctifying  the  heart. 
Mrs.  Taylor  was  in  many  respects  an  extraordinary  woman  ; 
and  her  biographer  has  performed  his  task  in  a  style  of  great  ex- 
cellence. The  narrative  of  her  conviction  and  contrition,  which 
is  here  given,  is  deeply  affecting  and  instructive,  by  reason  of 
Its  protracted  character,  as  well  as  the  circumstances  which 
kept  her  so  long  without  the  "joy  in  believing,"  which  she  af- 
terwards found  to  have  been  her  privilege.  That  her's  was 
the  true  "  godly  sorrow  which  worketh  repentance  unto  salva- 
tion," no  one  can  doubt ;  and  yet  she  was  for  many  years  the 
subject  of  its  anguish  and  mental  agony,  before  she  received 
the  "  spirit  of  adoption,"  or  had  the  "  witnesses  in  herself"  of 
which  the  apostle  speaks.  Subsequently,  her  enlightened 
piety,  her  growth  in  grace,  and  her  experience  of  the  fulness 
of  the  blessing  of  the  Gospel  of  peace,  made  her  a  "  burning 
and  a  shining  light."  In  these  days  of  degeneracy,  her  me- 
moir is  a  most,  timely  publication,  showing,  as  it  does,  an  emi- 
nent  example  of  Christian  experience  and  practice,  unsophisti- 
cated by  any  ol  the  dogmas  of  scholastic  divinity. 


CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS.  15 

Hra.  Taylor  was  an  humble,  sincere,  fervent,  and  consistent 
Christian,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  living  and  dying,  exem- 
plifying the  truth,  power,  and  preciousness  of  »ur  holy  relig- 
ion. Intellectually,  she  was  a  woman  of  high  order ;  and  her 
early  and  devoted  piety,  her  patience  and  resignation  in  afflic- 
tion, her  victory  over  death,  all  demonstrate  that  she  was  a 
witness  of  the  washing  and  regeneration,  and  the  renewal  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

Would  that  our  young  ladies  would  read  her  memoir,  imbibe 
her  spirit,  share  her  enjoyments,  and  participate  in  her  blessed- 
ness here  and  hereafter. 

■#  


THEOPNEUSTY,  or  the  Plenary  Inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  by  S.  R.  L.  Gaussen,  Professor  of 
Theology  in  the  new  Theological  School  of  Geneva, 
Switzerland.  Third  American,  from  the  second 
French  edition,  revised  and  enlarged  by  the  author. 
Translated  by  the  Rev.  Edward  Norris  Kirk,  1  vol. 
12mo., $0  75 

AIDS  TO  PREACHING  AND  HEARING,  by 
Rev.  Thos.  H.  Skinner,  D.D.,  1  vol.  12mo.,     -        -    i  00 

MEMOIR  OP  THE  LATE  REV.  WM.  NEVINS, 
D.D.,  1  vol.  l2mo., -       75 

LECTURES  ON  UNIVERSALISM,  by  Rev.  Joel 
Parker,  D.D.,  President  of  the  New  York  Theologi- 
cal Seminary,  12mo.,       --....        75 

JACOB  WRESTLING  WITH  THE  ANGEL,  and 
SOLOMON  THE  SHULAMITE,  by  Krumma- 
cher,  author  of  "Elijah  the  Tishbite,"  1  vol.  12mo.,         75 

CORNELIUS  THE  CENTURION,  by  Krumma- 
eher,  1  vol.  l2mo.,  ---....75 


14  CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS. 

SfeRMONS  ON  REVIVALS,  by  Rev.  Albert  Barnes, 
with  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  Joel  Parker,  D.D,, 
1  vol.  l8mo., 80  3f 

A  VOICE  FROM  ANTiaUITY,  to  theMenof  the 
Nineteenth  Century ;  or,  Read  the  Book.  By  J.  H. 
Merle  D'Aubigne,  author  of  the  "  History  of  the  Re- 
formation in  the  Sixteenth  Century,"  1  vol.  l8mo..  Si 

THE  VOICE  OP  THE  CHURCH  ONE,  Under 
all  the  Succossive  Fonns  of  Christianity;  by  J.  H. 
Merle  D'Aubigne,  D.D.,  1  vol,  18mo.,      ...        25 

PUSEYISM  EXAMINED,  by  J.  H.  Merle  D'Aubigne, 
D.D. ;  with  an  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author,  by 
Robert  Baird,  1  vol.  18mo.,       -----        25 

THE  CONFESSION  OF  CHRIST,  by  J.  H.  Merle 

D'Aubigne,  D.D ,  1  vol.  ISmo.,        -        -        -        -        25 

FAITH  AND  KNOWLEDGE,  by  J.  H.  Merle  D'Au- 
bigne, D.D.,  1  vol.  18mo., 25 

THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS,  and 
other  Fragments,  from  the  Study  of  a  Pastor,  by  Gar- 
diner Spring,  Pastor  of  the  Brick  Presbyterian  Church 
in  the  City  of  New  York,  1  vol.  12mo.,   -        -        -        50 

THE  BACKSLIDER,  by  Andrew  Fuller,  with  an  In- 
troduction by  John  Angell  James,  l8mo.,  -        -        31 

SERMONS,  by  Hugh  Blair,  D.D.,  to  which  is  prefixed 
the  Life  and  Character  of  the  Author,  by  James  Fin- 
iayson,  D.D.,  1  vol.  8vo., 2  00 

OBLIGATIONS  OF  THE  WORLD  TO  THE  BI- 
BLE, by  Gardiner  Spring,  D.D.,  I  vol.  12mo.,         -    1  00 

A  VISIT  TO  NORTHERN  EUROPE,  or  Sketches, 
Descriptive,  Historical,  Political,  and  Moral,  of  Den- 
mark, Norway,  Sweden,  and  Finland,  and  the  Free 


CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS.  15 

ddes  of  Hamburg  and  Lubeck ;  containing  notices 
of  the  Manners  and  Customs,  Commerce,  Manufac- 
tures, Arts,  and  Sciences,  Education,  Literature,  and 
Religion  of  those  Countries  and  Cities.  By  the  Rev. 
Robert  Baird,  with  Maps  and  numerous  Engravings, 
2  vols.  12mo., S2  00 

HEROINES  OP  SACRED  HISTORY,  by  Mrs. 
Steel,  1  vol.  18mo.,- 50 

A  SUMMER  JOURNEy  IN  THE  WEST,  by  Mrs. 
Steel,  author  of  "  Heroines  of  Sacred  History,"  1  vol. 
12mo., 50 

EMANUEL  ON  THE  CROSS,  AND  IN  THE 
GARDEN,  by  R.  P.  Buddicom,  I  vol.  l2mo.,  -        -        63 

THE  FAMILY  OF  BETHANY,  by  L.  Bonnot;  with 
an  Introductory  Essay,  by  the  Rev.  Hugh  White,  1 
vol.  l8mo., 38 

THE  ADOPTED  CHILD,  or  the  necessity  of  Early 
Piety,  by  the  author  of  "  Emma,  or  the  Lost  Pound," 
1  vol.  l8mo., 31 

THE  STORY  OP  GRACE,  the  Little  Sufferer,  1  vol. 
ISmo., 31 

ADOLPHUS  AND  JAMES,  by  the  Rev.  Napoleon 
Roussel,  translated  from  the  French,  1  vol.  18mo.,    -        31 

THE  LILY  OF  THE  VALLEY,  by  Mrs.  Sherwood,  31 

SHANTY,  THE  BLACKSMITH,  by  Mrs.  Sherwood,  50 
THE  TRAVELLER,  or  the  Wonders  of  Art,  1  vol. 

18mo., 38 

MEMOIR  OP  THE  TELLSTORM,  the  first  Swedish 
Missionary  to  Lapland,  with  an  Appendix  giving  an 
account  of  the  Stockholm  Mission,  by  the  Rev. 
Greorge  Scott,  1  vol.  18  mo.,     -----       31 


41 


16  CATALOGUE . OF    BOOKS. 

FLOWER  FADED,  by  the  Rev,  John  Angell  James,    ""'^ 
1  vol.  l8mo., $0  38 

MEMOIR  OF  MARTHA,  by  John  Angell  James,  1 
vol.  l8mo., 31 

MEMOIR  OP  CHARLES  LATHROP  WINSLOW, 
1  vol.  18mo.,    -------- 

CLOSING  SCENES  OP  THE  LIFEjOF  SAMUEL 
WISDOM,  illustrating  the  usefulness  of  Tract  Distri- 
bution, and  Sabbath  School  Instruction,  1  vol.  l8mo.,        25 

THE  SABBATH  SCHOOL  TEACHER'S  PAT- 
TERN, AND  A  WORD  FOR  ALL,  by  John  An- 
gell James,      --------25 

COUNSELS  TO  THE  YOUNG,  by  Rev.  A.  Alexan- 
der, D.D.,        25 

SELF  CULTIVATION,  by  Tryon  Edwards,      -        -       25 

EARLY  PIETY,  by  Rev.  Jacob  Abbott,     -        -        -        25 

THE  CHRISTIAN  POCKET  COMPANION,  select- 
ed from  the  works  of  President  Edwards  and  others,  25 
The  above  four  vols.  32mo.,  in  gilt  edges,  at  31 
cts.  each. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  SANDWICH  ISLANDS,  by 
the  Rev.  Shelden  Dibble,  Missionary  to  those  Islands, 
1  vol.  12mo.,   -------.75 

GENEVA  AND  ROME,  by  S.  R.  L.  Gaussen,  1  vol. 
18mo., 25 

REFLECTIONS  ON  FLOWERS,  by  Rev.  James  Her- 
vey,  author  of  "  Meditations  Among  the  Tombs,"  1 
vol.  l8mo.,       --------31 

TRANSPLANTED  FLOWERS,  or  Memoirs  of  Mrs. 
Rumff,  and  the  Duchesse  de  Broglie,  with  an  appen- 
dix, by  the  Rev.  Robert  Baird,  1  vol.  l8mo.,     -        -        38 


K 


CATALOGUE    OF   BOOKS.  17 

HINTS  FOR  MOTHERS,  by  a  Lady,  1  vol.  l8mo.,  -  $0  31 

A  TALE  OF  THE  HUGUENOTS,  or  Memoirs  of  a 
French  Refiagee  Family;  translated  from  the  Manu- 
scripts of  James  Fontaine,  by  a  Lady — with  an  intro- 
duction, by  Francis  L.  Hawkes,  D.D.,  1  vol.  l8mo.,  50 

ROCKY  ISLAND,  and  other  Parables,  by  Samuel  Wil- 
berforce,  M.A.,  1  vol.  18mo.,     -        ,        ...        38 

THE  LITTLE  WANDERERS,  by  Samuel  WUber- 
force,  M.A.,  1  vol.  iSmo.,         -----        25 

THE  KING  AND  HIS  SERVANTS,  by  Samuel 
Wilberforce,  M.A.,  1  vol.  iSmo.,        -        •        -        •        25 

THE  PROPHET'S  GUARD,  by  Samuel  Wilberforce, 
M.A.,  1  vol.  ISmo.,  -.---.       as 

ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  CHRISTIAN,  by  a  viUage 
Pastor,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Rev.  Dr.  Alexander 
(new  edition),  1  vol.  ISmo.,     -----        3B 

THE  WAY  OF  SAFETY,  bv  the  Rev.  L.  E,  Lathrop, 
D.D.,  1  vol.  18mo., 38 

BIOGRAPHY  OF  THE  SAVIOUR  AND  HIS 
APOSTLES,  wiih  Portraits  done  on  Steel,  1  vol. 
18mo., 60 

POETRY  FPR  THE  YOUNG,  in  two  parts.  Moral 
and  Miscftlaneous,  1  vol.  l8mo.,       -        -        -        -        38 

THE  WORLD'S  RELIGION,  as  contrasted  with  gen- 
uine Christianity,  by  Lady  Colquhoun,  1  vol.  18mo.,         50 

THE  CHRISTIAN  CITIZEN,  by  the  Rev.  A.  D. 

Eddy,  of  Newark,  1  vol.  12mo.,  -  -  -  -  50 
THE  ELEMENTS  OF  ASTRONOMY,  designed  as 

an  Introduction  to  the  Study,  1  vol.  l8mo.,  -  •  25 
MURRAY'S  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  ENGLISH 

READER,  ISmo.,  large  type, 35 


18  CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS. 

MURRAY'S  ENGLISH  READER,  l2mo.,  large  type,  $0  60 

MURRAY'S  SEQUEL  TO  THE  ENGLISH  READ- 
ER, 12mo.,  large  type, -       63 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  PRAYER,  Or  The  Sool  rising  out 
of  Time  into  the  Riches  of  Eternity,  by  Wm.  Law, 
A.  M.,  author  of  "  Law's  Serious  Call,"  etc.  1  vol.  1  Smo.        31 

A  PROTESTANT  MEMORIAL,  Comprising  a  Concise 
History  of  the  Reformation,  by  Thomas  Hartwell 
Home,  B.  D.,  Author  of  "Introduction  to  the  Bible," 
etc.  ey:.  1  vol.  18mo.,  <------       38 

DANGER  AND  DUTY,  Or  a  Pew  Words  on  Popery, 
Puseyism,  etc.,  by  Rev.  Richard  Marks,  author  of  the 
"Retrospect,"etc.  etc,l  vol.  18mo.,   ...       -       31 

THE  SHORTER  CATECHISM  of  the  Reverend  As- 
sembly of  Divines,  with  proofs  thereof  out  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, in  words  at  length,  l8mo.,  $5  per  100. 


B.  &  S.  have  on  hand  a  choice  aelection  of  Miscellaneous 
works,  suitable  for  Sunday  School  L'lbraries;  together  with 
Theological,  Classical,  Moral  and  Religiofcs  Books,  Stationary, 
&c.,  all  of  which  they  will  sell  at  the  lowest  prices. 

Publications  of  the  American  Tract  Society,  the  Massachu- 
setts Sabbath  School  Society,  and  American  &nd  Episcopal 
Sunday  School  Unions  su|^Ued  at  the  same  prices  as  sold  at 
their  respective  Depositories. 

All  orders  from  the  country  will  be  immediately  attended  to, 
and  books  forwarded  according  to  directions. — Should  tke  se- 
lection of  books  for  Sunday  Schools  be  left  with  B.  &  S.,  and 
they  should  forward  any  which  should  not  suit  the  purchaser, 
they  may  be  returned,  and  the  money  will  be  lefunded,  or  other 
books  given  in  exchange. 


VALUABLE    BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED  AND  /oB  SALE  BT 

BAKER   &   SCRIBNER, 

BRICK  CHURCH  CHAPEL 

nONTINa  ON  145    NASSAO   BT.  AND  36  FA&K  KOW. 

KBW^  YORK. 


CHARLOTTE   ELIZABETH'S    WORKS,  Uniform 
Edition,  12  vols.    12mo.  $6  00 

CHARLOTTE  ELIZABETH'S  JUVENILE  WORKS, 
(not  incladed  in  the  above  12  vols.),  7  vols.    ISmo.       3  00 


OPINIONS  OP  THE  PRESS. 

We  have  received  numerous  commendatory  nodces  of  oar 
edition  of  Charlotte  Elizabeth's  Works,  from  the  religious  pa- 
pers of  all  denominations  of  Christians  in  this  country,  and  for 
the  benefit  of  those  who  have  not  supplied  themselves  with  her 
books,  we  insert  here  a  few  which  are  believed  to  be  a  fair  spe 
cimen  of  the  opinions  of  the  press. 


r\ 


*26  PURITANS  AND  THEIR  PRINCIPLES. 

From  the  N.  T.  D-ibune. 
This  is  an  interesting  work  for  all  who  in  oui  day  ad- 
here to  the  principles  of  the  Puritans,  or  rejoice  in  a 
descent  from  the  noble  stock  who  were  the  champions 
of  Freedom  two  centuries  ago. 

.  - » 

From  the  New  Haven  Courier. 

The  design  of  the  work  is  to  set  forth  the  causes 
•which  brought  the  Pilgrims  to  these  shores ;  to  exhibit 
their  ;?nnci/)^es ;  to  show  what  these  principles  are  worth, 
and  what  it  cost  to  maintain  them-,  to  vindicate  the 
character  of  the  Puritans  from  the  aspersions  which 
have  been  cast  upon  them,  and  to  show  the  Puritanic 
SYSTEM  OF  Church  Polity,— as  distinguished  from  the 
Prelatic, — broadly  and  solidly  based  on  the  word  of  God ; 
inseparable  from  religious  Purity  and  Religious  Free- 
dom ;  and  of  immense  permanent  importance  to  the  best 
interests  of  mankind. 

The  publication  is  intended  to  bring  together  such  his- 
torical information  concerning  the  Puritans,  as  is  now 
scattered  through  many  volumes,  and  cannot  be  obtained 
but  with  much  labor  and  research,  and  an  outlay  beyond 
the  means  of  ordinary  readers. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 
The  author  enters  with  considerable  minuteness  into 
English  ecclesiastical  history  prior  to  the  persecutions  of 
the  Puritans,  reviews  the  events  which  more  immediately 
led  to  their  emigration  to  this  country,  traces  the  effects 
of  that  step  on  the  institutions  and  religious  character  of 
the  people  of  both  continents,  and  then  enters  into  an  ana- 
lysis of  both  prelatical  and  Puritanical  church  polity,  and 
warmly  and  eloquently  defends  the  latter.  The  style  of  the 
work  is  vigorous  and  clothes  a  subject  on  which  much 
has  been  already  written  with  new  attractions,  combining 
succinctness  of  historical  detail  with  elegance  of  diction. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Courier  Sf  Enquirer. 
Puritans  and  their  Principles  is  the  title  of  a  very  hand- 
some octavo  volume,  by  Edwin  Hall,  which  has  just 


x-URITANS    AND    THKIR    PRINCIPLES.  21 

been  published  by  Messrs.  Baker  &  Scribner,  at  145 
Nassau  street.  Its  purpose  is  to  enable  the  public  to 
judge  concerning  the  character  and  history  of  the  Puri- 
tans, which,  as  he  contends,  are  now  so  perseveringly  and 
so  violently  assailed ;  and  he  has  discharged  the  labori- 
ous task  with  great  zeal  and  ability.  He  says  the  ut- 
most pains  have  been  taken  to  caricature  the  principles, 
and  to  blacken  the  history  of  the  Puritans ;  and  as  an 
evidence  of  this  he  cites  the  fact  that  very  many  persons 
at  the  present  day  believe  that  the  famous  code  entitled 
the  "  Blue  Laws  of  Connecticut,"  once  actually  had  a 
place  among  the  statutes  of  that  colony;— whereas,  in 
point  of  fact,  they  were  the  work  of  a  Tory  clergyman, 
and  written  expressly  to  blacken  the  character  of  the 
rebel  colonists. 

The  volume  exhibits  proof  of  the  industry  and  zeal  of 
the  author,  no  less  than  of  his  ability  and  devotion  to  the 
principles  in  defence  of  which  he  writes.  As  to  the  cor- 
rectness of  these  principles,  of  course,  we  are  not  called 
upon  to  pronounce  any  judgment ;  but  all  who  are  inter- 
ested in  the  subject,  as  indeed  nearly  all  intelligent  per- 
sons must  of  necessity  be,  may  rely  upon  finding  in  this 
volume  much  matter,  of  fact  and  of  argument,  that  will 
essentially  guide  their  investigations. 

The  work  is  printed  in  very  handsome  style,  and  re- 
flects great  credit  upon  the  newly  established  house  by 
which  it  is  published. 

JFVoni  tJie  New  England  Puritan. 
This  is  a  neatly  printed  octavo,  of  between  400  and 
500  pages,  from  the  pen  of  one  who  has  proved  himself  a 
master  of  his  subject.  It  gives  the  history  of  the  Puri- 
tans, embracing  the  most  of  its  material  and  interesting 
facts ;  and  also  makes  these  facts  subserve  a  defence  of 
the  character  and  principles  of  our  ancestors.  The  work 
is  ably  and  thoroughly  executed,  and  it  ought  to  furnish 
a  part  of  the  library  of  every  descendant  of  the  Puritans. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Chrittian  Intelligencer. 
This  is  a  beautiful  octavo,  of  over  400  pp.,  handsomely 
printed.    As  it  has  but  just  reached  us.  we  have  given  it, 


jsfei^. 


22  PURITANS  AND  THEIR  PRINCIPLES. 

as  yet,  only  a  cursory  examination.  We  regard  it  as  a 
very  valuable  book.  If  contains  a  large  amount  of  im- 
portant historical  matter,  in  a  condensed  form  ;  precious 
under  all  circumstances,  but  especially  useful  in  our 
times,  when  both  Scripture  and  history  are  studiously 
distorted  to  prove  the  inventions  of  men  superior  in  ex- 
cellence to  the  institutions  of  God. 

The  book  shows  the  causes  which  brought  the  Pil- 
grims to  our  shores ;  exhibits  Iheir  principles ;  vindicates 
their  character  from  unjust  aspersions;  and  states  their 
system  of  church  polity,  as  distinguished  from  Prelacy. 
It  enters  into  the  history  of  the  Puritans  and  their  times  ; 
traces  their  progress  from  the  discovery  of  one  important 
principle  to  another ;  exhibits  them  in  their  sufferings, 
wanderings,  and  landing  on  the  margin  of  this  wilder- 
ness. The  claims  of  Prelacy  the  author  subjects  to  the 
severe  test  of  the  Bible,  reason  and  history.  It  treats 
historically  of  England,  before  the  times  of  WicklifFe  ;  of 
Wickliffe  and  his  times  ;  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.;  of 
fidward,  Mary  and  Elizabeth ;  of  the  conflict  of  princi- 
ple ;  of  Puritan  sufferings  ;  of  the  judicious  Hooker  ;  of 
James  I.,  and  the  going  to  Holland ;  of  the  voyage  to 
America;  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth;  of  the  storm 
gathering  in  England;  Charles  I.;  Archbishop  Laud; 
founding  of  the  Puritan  churches ;  rise  of  the  civil  war ; 
the  Rule  and  Judge  of  Faith  ;  on  the  alleged  right  to  im- 
pose liturgies  and  ceremonies ;  on  schism ;  the  Church, 
Its  oflicers,  discipline;  Episcopacy;  Apostolic  succes- 
sion, &c., 

Irom  the  Presbyterian. 
The  author  presents,  in  his  advertisement,  a  summary 
of  his  designs  m  this  publication,  which  are  "  to  set  forth 
the  causes  which  brought  the  Pilgrims  to  these  shores  ; 
to  exhibit  their  principles ;  to  show  what  these  princi- 
ples are  worth,  and  what  it  cost  to  maintain  them;  to 
vindicate  the  character  of  the  Puritans  from  the  asper- 
sions which  have  been  cast  upon  them,  and  to  show  the 
Puritanic  system  of  church  polity,  as  distinguished  from 
the  Prelatic."  All  this  is  accomplished  with  both  zeal 
and  knowledge,  and  the  whole  narrative,  extending  back 


PURITANS   AND    TBEIR  PRINCIPLES.  23 

to  the  early  times  of  the  Puritans,  and  embracing  a  most 
important  period  of  ecclesiastical  history,  is  full  of  ab- 
sorbing interest,  not  merely  to  the  descendants  of  the 
Pilgrims,  but  to  every  American  Christian.  We  have 
met  with  no  work,  which,  to  our  mind,  presents  so  satis- 
factory, and  yet  succinct  a  history  of  the  times  and  events 
to  which  it  refers. 

From  the  N.  T.  Baptist  Recorder. 
The  work  of  Mr.  Hall  was  undertaken  con  amore,—his 
love  of  the  Puritans  is  deep  and  unbounded.  He  has  col- 
lected his  facts  from  an  extended  course  of  reading,  and 
expressed  his  thoughts  in  a  style  which,  if  not  brilliant, 
is  lucid  and  earnest.  We  hail  with  much  pleasure  all 
such  contributions  to  our  Historical  Literature.  We 
hope  those  who  have  read  Dr.  Coit  will  read  Mr.  Hall. 
Their  conclusion  will  be  that  though  the  Puritans  were 
mortal,  and  are  justly  chargeable  with  many  inconsis- 
tencies and  errors,  they  were  stil'  a  noble  race,  the  trace 
of  whose  influence  is  found  in  th'best  institutions  of  the 
world. 

From  the  N.  Y.  Evening  Pott. 

The  object  of  the  work,  as  he  states  in  the  preface,  is 
to  set  forth  the  causes  which  led  the  Pilgrims  to  estab- 
lish themselves  on  this  continent,  to  exhibit  the  nature 
and  value  of  their  principles,  and  show  the  sacrifices  at 
which  they  were  maintamed,  to  defend  their  character 
against  the  attacks  levelled  against  it,  and  to  vindicate 
thepuritanic  system  of  Chuich  Polity. 

The  work  is  not  historical  merely,  but  in  a  good 
measure  controversial,  and  the  author  wields  the  wea- 
pons of  controversy  with  no  little  dexterity  and  vigor. 
The  Puritans  were  a  class  of  peculiarly  strong  and  decid- 
ed character — a  character  which  impressed  itself  upon 
the  age  in  which  they  arose,  and  the  influence  of  which 
yet  survives.  The  author  is  a  warm  admirer  of  this 
class,  ana  defends  their  memory  with  zeal.  He  takes  oc- 
casion to  discuss  the  claims  of  prelacy  at  much  length, 
not  only  in  its  historical  but  in  its  other  aspects.  We 
have  no  doubt  that  the  work  will  be  favorably  received  by 
the  large  religious  deaomination  to  whicii  the  author 
belongs. 


24  PURITANS  AND  THEIR  PRINCIPLES.     : 

FVom  the  Albany  American  Citizen.  -.  •  r.- 

We  cannot  forbear  to  express  our  conviction  that  it  is 
a  work  of  great  merit,  and  has  no  common  claims,  espe- 
cially upon  the  regard  of  those  who  have  the  blood  of  the 
Purttans  flowing  in  their  veins.  Its  historical  details 
evince  the  most  diligent  research,  and  its  vigorous  and 
masterly  discussion  of  important  principles,  shows  a  ju- 
dicious, discriminating,  and  thoroughly  trained  mind.  As 
the  subjects  of  which  it  treats,  have,  to  a  great  extent,  a 
controversial  bearing,  it  cannot  be  expected,  that  all  wiL 
jUdge  in  the  same  manner  of  the  merits  of  the  book,  but 
we  think  all  who  possess  ordinary  candor  must  agree 
that  it  is  written  with  no  common  ability,  and  contains  a 
great  amount  of  useful  information. 

From  the  Hartford  Christian  Secretary. 
After  an  Introduction,  containing  a  glance  at  the  con- 
dition of  England  before  the  days  of  Wickliffe,  we  are 
presented  with  a  history  of  Wickliffe  and  his  times,  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  the  rise  of  the  Puritans,  from 
whence  we  trace  them  in  their  conflicts,  visit  them  in 
their  prisons,  follow  them  in  their  wanderings,  and  come 
■with  them  to  their  first  rude  dwellings  in  the  Ameri- 
can wilderness.  We  behold  the  foundation  here  rising 
under  their  hands,  until  the  wilderness  became  transform- 
ed into  a  fair  and  fruitful  field.  The  principles  of  these 
noble  men  are  exhibited  and  explained.  The  matter  of 
Church  Polity  is  discussed,  and  the  claims  of  Prelacy  are 
brought  to  the  test  of  reason,  of  history,  and  of  the  word 
of  God. 

UBOuauiv  JO  M3IA  guiireA8id  9m  aq  IH^  'uonsanb 
muaoiBJOBC  am  ub  Xn^ioadsa  puB  'pu^i  ano  laAO  AppiAV 
IT3S1I    plaids    iiTAV  XSoioai^i  uBjunj  9\{l    l^V    "OH^^ 

lasqo  s JBaX  XiaAa  Xq  paui.iyuo^  ajoui  puB  ajoui  si  qoiqM 
'uoipiAUOD  aqi  ui  aoiofai  om.  puB  isajdpuud  puu  qjiBj 
nam  jo  aouannui  passaiq  aqi  laaj  o;  asijao  JSAau  hiav 
Xiiunoo  ino  "uaas  SBq  piJOAV  ino  q;nj;  puB  oouaTosuoD 
10  suduinuj  jUB^aoduii  jsoui  aqi  Jo  auo  sb  papiBSai  aouis 
luoi  aABq  aAV  Xjojsiq'  Jiaqi     -pu^l^ua  ^^N  3°  suBiun j 

9H;i  }o  saidpuTid  aqi  puB  lapBJBqo  ^^^  a;BjauaA  aM 


PURITANS  AND  THEIR  PRINCIPLES.  25 

Christians,  We  read  with  interest,  accordingly,  the  ac- 
counts of  the  Pilgrim  Celebrations,  year  after  year,  and 
wonder  not  that  such  enthusiasm  should  be  manifested 
by  those  who  claim  lineal  descent  from  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers.  That  some  things  occur  in  connection  with 
these  occasions,  which  look  verj'  unlike  the  Puritans,  it 

-•  is  mortifying  to  see.    There  have  recently  been  some  sad 

#  incongruities  enacted.    What,  for  instance,  has  fiddling 

and  dancing  and  carousal,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of 
the  ball-room,  to  do  with  Puritanism  ?  If  one  of  the 
good  old  Puritans  should  rise  from  his  rest,  and  come  to 
the  door  of  a  Pilgrims'  ball — would  he  not  more  readily 
fancy  that  the  sons  of  the  Cavaliers  were  exulting  in  the 
riddance  of  them,  than  that  the  sons  of  the  Pilgrims  were 
celebrating  the  holy  triumphs  of  a  self-denying  piety  1 
There  is,  to  our  minds,  very  much  that  is  wrong  here. 
And  then,  how  comes  it  that  Unitarianism  is  so  ardent  in 
the  Pilgrim  Celebration  f  What  fellowship  has  the 
Puritan  system  with  Unitarianism  1  We  were  inclined 
to  ask,  where,  on  the  last  Pilgrim  Anniversary,  were  the 
Orthodox  ministers — the  men  who  occupy  the  Puritan 
posts — of  Boston?  Have  they  given  all  into  other 
hands — or  do  they  seek  other  modes  of  showing  their 
regard  for  the  principles  of  their  fathers,  which  they 
deem  preferable  to  the  formality  of  uncovering  their 
heads  as  they  pass  the  spot  of  hallowed  memory  ?  If 
there  is  any  anniversary  which  should  be  kept  with  truly 
religious  service,  it  is  this ;  and  every  proper  means 
should  be  employed,  that  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans 

*  should  know  in  detail  their  fathers'  history,  and  the  prin- 

ciples for  which  they  suffered. 

In  this  view,  Mr.  Hall  of  Norwalk  has  done  good  ser- 
vice— but  his  work,  in  its  benefits,  goes  very  far  beyond 
this.  We  noticed  his  book  briefly,  a  few  vi'eeks  ago,  and 
now,  after  a  careful  reading,  are  prepared  to  speai  more 
decidedly  concerning  it.  We  know  of  no  work,  which, 
in  the  same  compass,  gives  so  clear  and  satisfactory  a 
view  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  the  principles  of  Pu- 
ritanism. There  are  evidences  of  careful  and  patient  re- 
search, and  a  comparison  of  the  best  authorities,  in  every 
chapter.  The  picture  of  the  Laudean  policy  is  one  that 
has  its  counterpart  only  under  the  bloody  Mary,  or  on  the 
opposite  side  of  Ihe  channel.  We  hope  to  be  able  to  give 
the  whole  of  this,  that  our  readers  may  know  more  oi 


26  PURITANS  AND  THEIR  PRINCIPLES. 

the  man,  whose  High  Church  views  Puseyism  sympa- 
thizes in,  and  whose  execution  it  celebrates  as  martyr- 
dom. The  history  of  the  successive  colonies  to  New 
England  is  given  with  peculiar  distinctness — and  from 
the  reading  of  it,  we  have  derived  a  clearer  knowledge  of 
the  several  localities  occupied.  The  style  of  Mr.  Hall  is 
vigorous,  and  his  whole  treatment  of  his  subject  manly. 
Our  country  congregations  cannot  fail  of  being  well  ip« 
formed,  with  such  courses  of  lectures  as  these. 

As  this  work  has  grown  out  of  the  late  outbreak  of 
Prelatic  exclusiveness — and  especially  in  Connecticut — 
the  author  goes  into  the  examination  of  the  peculiar  no- 
tions of  Episcopacy.  The  controversy  has  called  out 
several  able  works,  and  though  this  appears  last,  it  loses 
nothing  in  interest,  and  is  anticipated  by  nothing  which 
has  been  published.  In  the  chapters  embraced  in  this 
part  of  the  volume,  there  is  a  series  of  original  and  con- 
clusive reasoning.  A  certain  Mr.  Chapin,  as  well  as 
Bishop  Brownell,  comes  in  for  his  share  of  the  showing 
up.  In  the  concluding  chapter,  a  curtain  is  drawn,  and 
we  are  furnished  with  a  view  of  some  things  worth  see- 
ing— note,  for  instance,  the  topics — "  Episcopacy  and  Re- 
publicanism"— "  Episcopacy  in  the  American  Revolu- 
tion"— "  Reproaches  against  the  Puritans" — "  The  Table 
Turned."  On  the  subject  presented  in  this  last  topic, 
Dr.  Phillips  was  led  to  say  something  in  his  late  dedica- 
tion sermon ;  the  detail  here  given  is  amazing. 

Mr.  Hall  closes  his  volume  with  a  review  of  Dr.  Coit 
on  Puritanism,  and  exposes  him  fully.  Every  man  of 
New  England  origin,  who  possesses  any  of  the  Puritan 
spirit,  we  should  think,  would  make  himself  acquainted 
with  this  book.     We  commend  it  to  every  reader. 

After  these  remarks  concerning  the  book  in  general, 
there  is  one  circumstance  to  which  we  would  call  special 
attention.  Who  has  not  heard  of  "  the  Blue  Laws  ol 
Connecticut" — who  has  not  felt  aggrieved  that  good  men 
should  be  concerned  in  their  enactment  ?  Behold,  they 
are  an  absolute  Jidion-^—a.  mere  Munchausen  affair — ac- 
cording to  Mr.  Hall,  the  work  of  a  Rev.  Mr.  Peters,  an 
Episcopal  clergyman,  a  Toiy,  who  abaijdoned  our  coun- 
try at  the  opening  of  the  Revolution,  and  fled  to  Eng 
land.  Mr.  Hall  very  justly  expresses  his  amazement 
that  this  man's  fabrications  should  be  brought  out  in  a 
recent  impression,  with  special  coir.mendatiou. 


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